Figured you out
by SheyRicci
Summary: Jason sent Clay to bed, Ray left him alone for five minutes and Summer took him out to play in the snow.
1. Chapter 1

Clay left the cafeteria, headed for his barracks - those were his orders and he would obey them. He tried not to limp, tried to avoid an uneven gait, but he was sore - no, he hurt - and not even a hot shower or a bath with Epsom salts had eased his aching muscles. He was tired, so tired he hadn't even felt the need or want to eat, yet knew he had to, because tomorrow, he was hiking up a hill - mountain - cliff. Punishment - along with shoveling snow, chopping ice, splitting wood and patrolling for three straight days - for openly questioning Jason while on the mission in Mexico. He'd had a brief respite, the week - four days - they'd been home, but now he was paying for it.

The walk across base was not a long one, but he was forced to take his time, his back aching into his hips from the cold. His coat was zipped, the hood up, but it was inadequate for the temperature. Davis had supplied him with a hat, gloves, even a scarf, but he couldn't recall where he'd left them. He wore long-johns though, he didn't leave the cabin without them.

He hunched his shoulders, lowered his head against the wind and trudged on. When he was in the desert, he wished he were somewhere cold. When he was somewhere cold, he wished for the warmth of the desert. Sigh, seemed nothing made him happy or content these days. Well, maybe dinner. It had been soup and chicken pot pie - comfort food on a cold night. He only wished he'd had more of an appetite.

Barracks this mission was a large cabin; two bedrooms on either side of a large room with a sofa, several comfy chairs, a table, a TV and a fireplace. He couldn't wait to add wood to the fire Trent had lit several hours ago, snag a blanket and crash on the sofa. Finally, he'd be alone and allowed to sulk.

Sonny and Brock were out on snowmobiles – for whatever reason, they found that activity fun. Clay might too, if he weren't so tired and sore. Trent was with the doc, doing God knew what, probably something to do with him. Ray was in the room he shared with Jason, face-timing the wife and kids, he'd be there for hours, and Jason was holed-up with Eric and Mandy. He'd have the cabin to himself. Summer was with them on this mission, but had opted to bunk with support rather than occupy the sofa. Clay was okay with that. He liked lying on the sofa with the fire.

He rather dreaded the mission ending and having to go home. His back spasmed to remind him this mission was not fun. Okay, he dreaded going home. Maybe he wouldn't. They'd be off for several days once they landed in Virginia. Nothing and no one was there to make him stay. He could join some buddies, take a trip, he still had friends. Jason wouldn't like it, but right about now, Clay didn't give a damn what Jason liked or wanted.

They'd been home not quite a week after Mexico when they'd deployed here - wherever here was; Alaska? Russia? Sweden? Switzerland? Iceland? One of the Poles? He knew where he was, he did, somewhere with a lot of snow and extreme cold temperatures at night. It did warm up during the day, once the sun was out. And by warm up, he meant the other side of zero, though not double digits.

They wouldn't be here long, a week tops, and the mission wasn't dangerous. They were searching for camps, hideouts of known associates of some terrorist on Mandy's list. Why here in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, he hadn't been told. Or maybe he had. Didn't matter and he didn't care. He supposed, if he asked, someone would remind him, but he didn't intend to ask. He went where he was told, did what he was told. He'd received the message in Mexico, loud and clear. Do as your told, don't question orders. Done.

This time, when they got home, he doubted Jason would leave him alone like he had after they'd left Mexico. Jason's mom was with the kids, the kids were adjusting well, Jason wasn't as distant and preoccupied with home issues any more. After Mexico...Clay sighed. He was so sick of Mexico. Yes, he was off. Yes, his head space wasn't in the best place right now. Yes, he'd questioned his leader, doubted his ability to lead the team with a clear head of his own, but not once, had Clay ignored an order or disobeyed one. That wasn't _what_ he expected Jason to get on him about, it would be about Stella and it would happen. He was surprised Jason hadn't yet done so.

He avoided a pile of snow, thought it shouldn't be in his way, figured he'd be shoveling it off the path in the morning before his hike. He just lowered his head, trudged on.

() () ()

Jason stood between Trent and Doc, watched Clay limp across the base from the warmth of command. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Yeah, he'd been hard on the kid, had him out daily for the last three days either working or hiking or tracking or running surveillance with support, physical activity, but he'd ordered Clay to the barracks after dinner. Kid probably thought it was further punishment, but Jason was ready to ease up on the kid.

"He's not hiking that hill tomorrow." Trent told his boss. "You proved your point Jason. It's too cold here for anyone to be in this weather daily for the hours you've had him outside. Yeah, its zero, but you still sweat, and then it dries, and you don't shower and..."

Jason waved him off. He got it, but the kid worried him. He was taking the break-up from Stella hard, very hard - to hard. The kid had a habit of getting attached and he didn't let go easily. Jason hadn't cared for Stella. He knew Clay thought she was strong enough to be a Seal wife, but he hadn't seen it. Stella thought she was, gave it a good shot, but Jason had gone through this. His wife had made it by convincing herself Jason would retire after 25 years in the military - and he'd never had any intentions of doing any such thing and look what had happened.

"He's feeling the cold." Doc commented.

"We'll make hot toddies later." Trent said. "Jay?"

"I heard you Trent." Jason snapped. "Trying to keep him busy, don't want him pulling a Sonny and going to bed with a bottle."

"Set him to chopping down a tree." The doc said. "Keep him close to base. No hiking. He needs a break."

"He went back to barracks." Trent turned away from the window, the cold air coming off the glass panes made him shiver. Soon, they would be coming around, closing the outside shutters to block the cold air. Why that wasn't done at sundown was beyond him, but whatever. "He's going to sleep. By the time he wakes up, we'll be in for the night. He won't find a bottle tonight."

"Sonny took him drinking in..." Jason began. Sonny was still on his shit list too.

"Clay took himself drinking. Sonny diverted his intent the first time, went the second time to make sure the kid got back okay." Trent corrected. "Would you rather Clay had gone off on his own?"

"I'd rather he talk about it."

"To who? You? Hell Jason, you were wrapped up in your feud with Mandy."

Jason put a hand up to stop him. "She never comes before one of you."

"You didn't see his pain Jay. Sonny did. Ray did."

That was true and Jason couldn't deny it. "She ever comes near him again..."

Trent hesitated. Stella. Yeah, Jason had never taken to her. Trent was afraid Stella wasn't done with Clay. Oh, not to jerk the kid around or play with his affections. No, Trent truly believed Clay would offer to leave the team, finish out his current enrollment and leave the Navy for her. And Stella would accept his offer, his sacrifice...making the kid even more miserable and unhappy than he already was. It hadn't been discussed among the team yet, but he knew Jason thought the same thing.

If Jason had his way, Clay would never see Stella again, would never spend time alone with her, would move on and find someone else. It'd been done...both Trent and Brock were on second marriages and Jason wouldn't be alone for long.

"He's lost a lot this year Jay. Brian, Adam, Stella...his dad is an ass."

"He found us." Jason didn't want to think about Ash Spenser. The time would come when the two of them would meet and he didn't expect it to go well. He didn't intend to even attempt to make it go well.

"And he's holding it together. Back off."

Before Jason could answer, Summer popped in. He was looking for Jason, stopped in surprise when he saw the doc and Trent in command rather than in the infirmary or wherever it was the doctor had quarters.

"Kairos." Jason didn't even turn. "Not a good time."

"Shipment of ammo is in." Summer said hesitantly. He was still the outsider, not yet fully accepted by everyone on Bravo, not privy to all of what the team shared with one another. "Davis said you only allow Bravo to unload and inventory."

Jason nodded. A job regulated to support but wouldn't hurt Summer to experience the job, they'd all done it one time or another, would again. "Get one of the guys to lend you a hand."

Summer waved at doc and Trent, turned and left. Davis had said Bravo, Jason had said one of the guys - to Summer, that meant one of six guys, so he headed to Bravo's barracks to get one.

() () ()

Clay entered the cabin, felt the warmth hit him in the face, rubbed his hands together in front of the fire. Someone had recently added logs – probably Ray - so he simply stoked them then went to his room to change into comfy clothes and warm socks. Ray heard the door, peeked around the doorway, saw Clay sprawled on the couch, returned to his conversation with his wife.

"Everything okay?" Naima asked, jouncing a drooling, cranky baby on her hip who was tired and up past his bedtime.

"Yeah, just one of the guys coming in."

"Clay?" She guessed, Ray wouldn't have gotten up to check on anyone else. "He still down in the dumps?"

"Yeah, rather he be here than out drinking."

He sent Jason a text: _Kid's in, crashed on the sofa.  
_ Jason replied: _Keep him in.  
_ Ray: _He grounded?  
_ Jason: _Trent says so.  
_ Ray: _Roger that._

"How's it going with Summer and Sonny?"

"Separate quarters." He grinned, put the phone down. "It'll blow over. You know Sonny."

She gave her husband a smile. Oh yeah, she knew Sonny. "Time to read your daughter a story while I put this one down,"

Mmmmm, she would put his son to bed, he would put Clay to bed.

No one else came 'home'. Ray didn't worry, it was still early, not even 8 o'clock and yet Clay slept soundly on the sofa. How the hell could the kid possibly be comfortable sprawled like he was? Mostly on his belly, one foot on the floor, the other against the back of the sofa, one hand tucked beneath his chin, other arm flung over his head, wrist on the sofa arm, blanket twisted around his waist. Good thing he wore a long-sleeved Henley, pants and socks or he'd be cold. The blanket did nothing in the way of offering him warmth, just comfort.

"Okay kid, you look too comfy to move." Ray added another log to the fire, decided to let him stay on the sofa, dragged the comforter off Clay's bunk, tossed it over him. "Just going to the head, don't move, don't leave this cabin, you hear me?"

Of course Clay didn't and he didn't respond. Ray grabbed his jacket. He was going to the bathroom, he wasn't going far or for long. The kid looked tired, was sleeping, no alcohol was in the cabin, he'd be fine until Ray got back.

Summer knocked on the door to Bravo's barracks. He didn't have to, not really, he was allowed to be here, could sleep here if he wanted to, but with the current animosity between him and Sonny, he felt more comfortable sleeping with the support team. Man, he just didn't get that guy. Sonny was only tolerable as long as Jason was around, and then, just barely.

When no one told him to come in, he tried the knob, opened the door. He didn't linger outside, stepped in and closed the door. The room was toasty and warm, the fire licked merrily at fresh logs in the hearth and he stepped over to warm his backside. Huh, no one appeared to be in but someone had just been there, the logs had just been added. He called out hello, then yo, then anyone. Checked the room with bunk beds, then the room Jason and Ray shared. No one. Great, looked like he'd be unloading the truck on his own. Oh, Davis would be there, and she wouldn't shirk from carrying boxes, but Summer felt the bigger, heavier boxes should be unloaded by someone with a stronger set of shoulders.

"Hey."

What Summer had thought was a mound of blankets on the sofa moved and a hand dug its way out, pushed the fluffy blanket away from a face. Clay yawned, snuggling deeper into the depths of the sofa, the comforter warm, the fire soothing...the chill had finally eased from his bones. His toes didn't sting from cold, his fingers weren't chapped...he was feeling warm and content.

"All alone?" Summer asked. He didn't get this arrogant, cocky 'kid' either. Clay was stand-offish. He didn't warm up to anyone, kept to himself but whenever there was a situation, he didn't hesitate to get in the middle of it. A good guy to have on the team, but there was something about him Summer just couldn't figure out. He wondered why everyone just tip-toed around him, let him do what he wanted. And he sure as hell didn't get why everyone referred to him as kid, or why Clay tolerated it. He was an adult the other side of twenty-five, not a kid.

"Ray's here." Clay eased onto his back. He hadn't seen Ray, but someone had tended the fire, added a blanket, so he assumed Ray was around somewhere. He was sure he had a babysitter.

Summer didn't want to ask Ray to help him unload ammo, didn't matter anyway, because Ray wasn't in the cabin.

"Jason sent me to get help unloading an ammo truck." Summer said.

Clay let his eyes close, turned to face the back of the sofa. Sure, of course he did. Still not off the shit list. Couldn't have one night of peace. Oh, no. He took a minute, calmed his ire, plastered an 'I'm okay with helping' look on his face and climbed out of the cozy cocoon. He gave the blankets and pillow one last, longing look then headed for his room. He needed boots and his coat.

() () ()

Ray returned to the cabin. Damn, it was cold outside. He was in for the night, if he had to pee again, he'd find a coffee can. He hung up his coat, stoked the fire, added another log - they'd have to carry more in. Let Sonny chop more in the morning, he loved to swing an ax - quickest way to get him to do it without too much bitching was to say that Clay wasn't feeling good and enjoyed the warmth of a fire.

Speaking of Clay...Ray turned, eyed the sofa, saw the blankets and pillows but no Clay and assumed the kid had taken himself off to bed. Ray headed to his room, undressed, changed into the warm clothes he slept in, crawled into bed with a book because the warmest spot in the cabin, other than right in front of the fire, was bed.

He read one page, turned it and paused. Why would Clay have gone to bed without his pillow and blankets? Ray shrugged it off. The kid had probably gone to bed, realized he'd left his blankets behind, stole Trent's. He nodded, yes, that's what happened.

He read the same page three times. No, this was Clay. Anyone else that is what would have happened, but not Clay. It bothered him but he shook it off. Turned the page, couldn't recall what he'd just read three times, turned the page back. Nope, something was still bothering him. Did it bother him enough to get out of his warm, cozy, comfy bed and go check? No. Clay was an adult. He tried a fourth time to read the same god-damn page. Nothing for it. He wouldn't be content until he saw the kid with his own eyes.

Getting up, he recalled smirking at the thick socks Clay had worn when he'd crashed on the sofa. Yeah, now he understood. The floors were cold on his bare feet as he padded softly out of his room, crossed the room behind the sofa to the door of the second bedroom. The door was open to get the heat from the fireplace so he popped his head around.

Clay's bunk was empty. Ray couldn't believe it. Climbed the ladder, patted and poked with both hands. Maybe the kid hadn't felt like climbing the ladder once he realized he had neither pillow nor blanket, had crashed in Trent's bunk. Ray climbed down, checked first Trent's bunk, then Sonny's. Climbed up, checked Brock's bunk then Clay's again. He was on his knees, ass to the ceiling, peering under Sonny's bunk when a foot kicked him in the ass, sent his nose to the floor with a grunt.

"Wha'cha doin' there Ray-Ban." Sonny chuckled, expecting Ray to come back at him, but Ray simply sat on his ankles, didn't move off the floor.

"Looking for Spenser." He said distractedly. "You seen him?"

"I don't think he'd be down there." Brock was shedding his wet clothes.

It occurred to Ray how ridiculous he was being, searching in places Clay couldn't possibly be. He got to his feet, hands on his hips, a perfect imitation of Jason.

"He was sleeping on the sofa." Ray began. "Was there when I left."

"How long were you gone?" Sonny joked, sitting on his bed to take off his boots.

"Maybe five minutes."

Both Sonny and Brock stopped what they were doing: Sonny's foot hung in the air, shoelaces in his fingers, Brock had his hands crossed over the hem of his shirt.

"You sure about that?" Brock asked.

"I went to take a leak." Ray said.

Both he and Brock were spurred into prompt action. Pillows were thrown, blankets were tossed, all four mattresses were upended. The ridiculous search moved into the main room, ended in Ray and Jason's room.

"Maybe he went to the head." Brock said for the fifth time.

"I would have passed him." Ray answered for the fifth time.

"Maybe he went to eat." Sonny said for the third time.

And Ray answered for the third time. "Cafeteria is closed." He retrieved his cell phone, dialed Jason.

"Ray? What's up?" Jason asked.

"Where are you?"

"Command."

"Spenser by any chance with you?"

"No. Should he be? Thought he was with you."

Ray sighed. "Okay, let me ring Trent."

"Don't bother." Jason replied. "He's right here."

"Doc too?" Ray guessed. Shit. Well, that left Davis and Blackburn. If Clay wasn't with either of them, then they could panic. Where else would he have gone?

"Yeah, call Davis, ping his phone." Jason ordered. "Blackburn's in the next room with Mandy, he's not with them." He motioned to Trent to get his coat on, took his own when doc handed it to him, worked his arm into one sleeve, phone held to his ear with the other, switched. "Why are we looking for him?"

"He was sleep when I left to hit the head, I came back, he was gone. His coat and boots are gone, but his ski pants are here. And NO! I didn't miss him in the bathroom, going to it or from it."

"We'll check there on our way back." Jason hung up. Trent and doc were just staring at him.

"Don't say he's gone missing again." The doc peered over his glasses. "No? Really? Well, I'll be darned. That kid just finds trouble to get into, huh?"

"Dunno. Maybe." Jason zipped his coat, pulled his knit hat from a pocket. "You end up with him, call me."

Doc nodded. The base was small, not too many places anyone could go for entertainment. At most, he guessed young Spenser had gone to the quarters of one group or another for a game of cards. They'd find him soon, warm and cozy and everyone could relax.

Yeah, right. He didn't believe that for a minute.

() () ()

Clay was miserable. He hadn't bothered to dress warmly - no hat, just the hood on his jacket, no scarf, no ski pants - because all he expected to do was unload an ammo truck in the 'hangar' on the base. No, it wasn't heated, but it was a covered shelter so he'd be out of the wind and standing on a concrete floor that wasn't covered by ice or snow. Half an hour tops.

It had taken twenty minutes, but then they got word the second ammo truck was either broken down or stuck some five miles from base and he, Summer and Seth loaded up on the first truck with the driver and headed out to meet it. Seth, because he was the mechanic, he and Summer because the truck was loaded with ammo and had only the soldier driving it, to protect it.

The four of them were jammed into the cab, too cold for anyone to ride in the back. Seth, the lightest sat on Summer's lap, Clay squashed between the driver and Summer. He didn't mind so much, the heat in the cab was meager, so he was glad for the body warmth. He swallowed, tried to keep his teeth from chattering, happy he wore long johns and thermal socks. Hoped Seth could easily and quickly fix the truck. If not, he hoped there were chains to tow it, because there was no way in hell they'd survive the night out here and they couldn't leave the truck.

Because of course, that truck was the one with the heavy armor. Damn his luck.

Five miles wasn't all that far when you drove 30 miles an hour to get there. They came to a stop and Summer and Seth climbed out. The driver and Clay stayed in the cab. Clay had been tired and sore before he'd unloaded heavy boxes off the truck. Now, he was flat-out exhausted. He'd found his limit and he was at it.

It didn't take Seth long to announce the truck couldn't be repaired. Did Clay want to transfer the load or attempt to tow it? Did Clay want to do what? Why make him decide? Oh right, out of the five men, he had the highest rank. Did he out-rank Summer? He didn't know. Didn't seem to matter, Summer waited for him to make a decision.

"Tow it?" He suggested, the men nodded. No one wanted to unload the truck if they didn't have to.

Clay sighed, picked up his gloves, climbed down out of the cab. He wasn't armed, hadn't expected to leave base. He was gonna hear about that tomorrow - would pay for it. 'Cause yeah, not only had he left base, he'd left base unarmed. Way to go dumbass, come out here to protect the shipment and come without a weapon. Duh.

He tromped through knee-high snow alongside the truck, rounded the back to lower the tailgate, slipped, caught his hand on the wheel-well, leg sliding behind the tire. Sighed. Ow, sure, just had to cut his palm. Of course he did. Had he had his gloves on, he wouldn't have done that. Now he'd be reprimanded for that along with his lack of rifle and gun. As it was, he was lucky all he did was cut his hand. It was cold enough for frost-bite and grabbing bare metal with warm skin might have made his hand stick to the truck.

Oh yeah, he was gonna get reamed out by everyone: by Ray for leaving the cabin, by Jason for going off base unarmed, by Trent for going out dressed as he was, by Sonny for going with Summer.

Ignoring the sting of pain in his hand, he gained his feet and nimbly hopped the tailgate, crawled on his knees to the bench with the flip-up lid and dragged out the heavy chains. His shoulders shook, the strain taxing his already over-taxed strength. Three days out in the cold - no matter the reason - barely eating, hiking and sitting in the snow had taken too large a toll.

Scootching on his butt, he inched to the end of the truck, dropped his legs over the edge, sat for a minute. Seth came over, took the chains, moved off. Clay just sat while the truck he sat in moved, turned around, backed up, back bumper-to-front bumper with the other truck. Seth and Summer set about connecting the chains. Clay just prayed the other truck wasn't stuck as well as broken down.

He was wet, he was cold, he was tired. He ached, he hurt, he throbbed and if one more thing went wrong this night, he very much thought he'd cry.

A yell and a hup and the truck jerked forward. Clay pulled his legs in, sat and watched the chains pull taut, willed it to work. He wanted to return to base and curl up on the sofa in front of the fire. But no, of course not. The broken down truck of course, was stuck. Using his palms flat against the truck floor, he pushed off his ass and jumped to the ground.

Clay didn't want to make the guys on support come out in the cold, so they'd try and free the truck before he sent the other one back to base to get help to come out and transer the cargo. Armed with shovels, rock salt, rubber mats, collected pine branches, they began to dig the truck free, but despite their best efforts, the truck didn't budge and it was too large and too heavy to rock or push. It wasn't going anywhere.

Clay sat on his ass in the snow, threw his shovel in a fit. The only thing that kept him from having a full-blown tantrum was he _knew_ enough time had passed that help would be there any moment; as soon as Bravo couldn't account for his whereabouts, they'd be hot on his trail and would come after him.

Woot-woot.

This would be one time he'd be happy to be yelled at because Bravo would come with blankets and hot coffee and battery-operated heaters for his hands and feet. He'd be man-handled and scolded, but bundled and tucked into the cab of whatever transport they came in and given chicken broth to drink.

He wouldn't have to send the truck back to get help, help would be on its way.

"Should we unload?" Summer asked. They'd tried the radio, couldn't raise base. Cell phones connected with one another, but no call made from any phone got through to base or anyone else they tried to call. "Can't leave it out here."

Clay sighed, numb and beyond cold. He hated to order the men to unload the truck when he expected Bravo any moment. He could barely concentrate and put two words together, no way would he be capable of helping transfer the truck's cargo.

"No need." He slurred. Seth looked at him in alarm. "Bravo's coming."

Summer stared. How the hell would Clay know that?

"Clay? Hey man, you good?" Seth stomped his feet, noticed for the first time how Clay was dressed, extended his hand. "Oh man, oh man, Christ, you trying to get me beat up? Trent's gonna kill me. Get in the cab."

"Uh, Seth. Shouldn't we send someone back, start moving the cargo?" Summer asked.

"You can start moving it, but Bravo will be here any minute."

"Clay said the same thing. How do you know that?"

Seth pointed to Clay who finally reached for Seth's hand and allowed Bravo's mechanic to pull him to his feet. "Cause we have him with us and they don't like it when he's outta their sight."

() () ()

"Yeah Ray, what's up?" Lisa answered her cell. She was in her quarters, dressed in pajamas and fuzzy slippers, sipping a mug of hot cocoa topped with mini-marshmallows. She had a small room off the ammo supply storage room, heated by an electric radiator, so she was quite cozy. "Need something?"

"The whereabouts of Spenser. Can you ping his phone?"

"Mmmm. No need." She stirred her cocoa with a peppermint stick. "He went with Summer to unload the ammo truck. The second one broke down, they went out with Seth to see if they can get it running."

"Spenser?" Ray repeated, stunned. "Did what? Why?"

"Summer said Jason told him..." Lisa began but Ray cut her off.

"Where did it break down?"

"Was coming from the South, main road." She said. "Five or so miles out. Ray? What's wrong?" She heard Sonny erupt in the background. "Am I on speaker?"

"He's off base?" Sonny bellowed.

"Jay, did you tell Summer to get Clay to help him unload the ammo trucks?" Ray asked.

"Really boss?" Trent frowned. "After our talk?"

"What? NO!" He punched Trent in the arm. They both still wore their coats, so Trent didn't even feel it.

"If that hemp-loving hippie..." Sonny was saying.

"I told him to get one of the guys..." Jason was saying.

"Get them on the radio!" said Eric. Lisa choked on a way-ward marshmallow. Eric was in Bravo's barracks? Or was Bravo in Eric's?

"Um, okay." Lisa went out to the ammo room, switched the CB on. Nothing. Tried Clay's cell, then Seth's, finally Summer's.

"Let's go get him." Brock said. He stepped into his ski pants that were drying by the fire. He and Sonny had returned because even with a fire, it had been too cold to stay out after complete darkness, not because they'd gotten bored racing snowmobiles. He donned his knit hat, his gloves, slung his scarf over his neck, wrapped it and tucked inside his coat. "He shouldn't be out there."

"My fault." Everyone said at the same time.

"I shouldn't have left him alone." Ray added.

"I knew he was hurting, should have been on him." Trent added.

"I banished him to the barracks, should have made it clear he wasn't supposed to leave." Jason cursed. "Why the hell would Summer think I meant the kid."

"I shudda kicked that flip-flop wearing..." Sonny shut up when Eric dug an elbow into his side. "Just sayin'."

"Guys, I got nothing. No signals are transmitting." Lisa said. "I'll order an off-road Humvee ready. Gimme five."

"Load up." Jason ordered, was out the door, Trent on his heels, Ray's cell in his hand as he told Lisa what supplies he wanted to take with them.


	2. Chapter 2

Summer stood with the two drivers, didn't know what to do. He barely knew Seth. Yes, he was sharing quarters with the support team, of which Seth was part of, but there were fifteen of them and he didn't know them all that well yet. Heck, he wouldn't have known to fetch Seth and bring him with them if Clay hadn't told him to do so.

So, each member of support had a 'specialty' or a 'set skill'. Who knew? He should probably, 'cause, come on, Bravo had their own doc and pilot and driver and mechanic, wouldn't expect anything less from the great Jason Hayes.

"Say what?" Summer asked stupidly.

Seth grinned, shrugged. "When Clay first joined Bravo, they, uh, had habit of losing him."

"Good God." Clay blew his breath out, rolled his eyes. "Not that again."

"What are you doing out here Clay?" Seth asked, kicked himself for not thinking to ask that earlier. "You look like shit."

"Bad light." Clay joked tiredly. God, he wanted to take Seth's suggestion, climb into the truck cab, huddle around the heat vent. He looked at his watch, tried to calculate the time they'd been gone from base, added in the time it had taken to unload the first truck. "Ten minutes?" Or less until Bravo's arrival.

He looked at Seth who nodded, "Tops. Now get in the cab." Seth said again, looked at Summer to back him up. "We'll begin to transfer the load. Maybe without all the weight on it, whatever Jason comes in can help pull the truck free."

Seth left the job of making Clay obey to get out of the cold to Summer and joined the two drivers to transfer the load. Even with the arrival of additional man-power and perhaps a more powerful vehicle with a higher towing capacity, Seth doubted they'd be able to free the truck until they lightened its load. It was just too heavy.

"You sure someone's coming?" Summer asked.

"Bet on it." Clay said. Jason might be pissed at him, but Bravo's leader would never leave any of his men and he had a tendency to get really cranky when he didn't know where Clay was. And if Clay had left base without Jason's permission or knowledge – in this case, both – the boss would come after him.

Summer shrugged, moved off, assumed Clay would find his way into the cab of the truck on his own.

Not even five minutes later, the loud rumbling of approaching vehicles was heard and seconds later, headlights of not one, not two, but three off-road Humvee's broke the darkness.

Wow! Okay, yeah, Summer had sorta believed both Clay and Seth when they'd said Bravo would come, but he hadn't expected Jason to come with the entire Bravo support team. He wondered how in the minutes it had to have taken to get here so soon, he'd managed to scramble the team, gear up and be ready to go.

The lead Humvee pulled around, stopped, the passenger side doors opened and Jason and Sonny spilled out. Ray and Trent came around the front of the vehicle, Brock from the back.

"What we got?" Jason asked.

"Can't fix it, tried to tow it, too heavy, it's stuck." Summer said when Seth stood quietly. Where the hell was Clay? He should be the one giving his boss answers to his questions. Maybe he'd fallen asleep.

"Sonny?"

Sonny walked around the stuck truck, looked in the back at the load, asked the driver what he was carrying, ducked and looked at the axles and wheels and bumpers, the undercarriage.

"We ain't pulling it out with that weight." Sonny reported. Summer huffed, he'd just said that! "Need to lighten it."

Jason turned, whistled and all the Humvee's emptied. Within seconds, Bravo support was quickly and efficiently transferring the cargo.

"Where is he?" Trent asked.

"Check the cab." Summer replied when it became obvious Trent was talking to him. It was the last mention of Clay's whereabouts he could remember. And it had been less than five minutes ago, where else would he be?

Trent didn't move. Summer became aware of the hostile stares. Activity between the two trucks continued as support and the two drivers continued moving cases and boxes, but Bravo stood around him, stared and waited.

Bewildered, Summer asked. "What?"

"The man asked you where the kid was." Sonny began, Ray extended an arm to keep him back. "We wouldn't ask, if we hadn't looked for him."

Summer rolled his eyes, stepped forward, opened the door of the truck, swung it wide, stood back and executed a perfect, mocking butler's bow; with one arm behind his back, he bent forward, made a sweeping arc at the truck with the other.

"I give you, your kid." He dripped sarcasm, disgust. Good Grief but this group of highly trained, dangerous, skilled men could carry on - over nothing.

Silence. No one even moved. Summer straightened up, slowly turned to look in the cab...no one was on the seat or on the floor...it was empty. What the hell?

"You let him out of your sight, didn't you?" Brock broke the silence, shook his head. "Told you not to do that." He opened the Humvee's back door and Cerberus, wearing protective booties and a warm vest jumped to the ground.

Summer rolled his eyes. Good Christ. It was just a dog.

"Find Clay." Brock told Cerberus who was off leash.

"You and me." Sonny growled. "You. And. Me."

Summer stood his ground, spread his arms wide in a; 'fuck you, here I am, come and get me gesture.'

The dog trotted in circles, nose to the ground, went one way, then the other. Darted back and forth between the trucks, circled around back to Brock, barked and trotted to the driver's side of the truck Clay was supposed to be in, paused, looked back, took off at a run.

"Guess he went that way." Ray stated the obvious.

Jason whistled, activity stopped. Everyone turned to look at Bravo's leader, waited for instruction and ten seconds later, half of support was armed, bore flashlights and had spread out in search of Bravo's missing kid. Seth walked off with Jason and Trent.

"The hell?" Summer muttered. Really? Leave the ammo behind and send most everyone to search for one man who more than likely had walked behind a tree to take a leak? The two drivers and the remaining men from the support team had already resumed moving cargo. Summer was annoyed they were left to do it when ample help was out there wasting time looking for Spenser who would probably wander back on his own, but whatever.

"You don't have the history with him we do." Ray said quietly. Summer hadn't realized Ray had remained behind. "I don't know how the hell he ended up out here with you, but Kairos, we've all told you, if he's with you - and only you - keep him with you."

"Seth's here."

"It's not on Seth, it's on you." Ray pointed out. "You're Bravo, he's support. If you weren't here, then yeah, it falls on Seth." He shook his head. Jason was going to have one hell of a time reining Sonny in after this. He let it go, moved on, needed to be ready to be on the road with all the ammo and cargo when Bravo returned with Clay. "Chris, what truck do you want to use to try and pull this one free? Load light enough, you think?"

Summer wanted to know how half of the support team knew to stay and half knew to go with Jason, so he asked.

"The team is split." Ray answered. "Half responds to orders when Jason raises his left hand, the other half responds when he raises his right hand."

All that answer did was leave Summer wondering how they knew what the orders were when none were spoken but decided he'd pushed his luck enough for the moment, so he let it go. Maybe whatever hand Jason raised meant that half of the team was with him. Summer would need to know these things, but yeah, later. Right now, everyone was focused on finding Spenser, transferring the ammo, freeing the truck and returning safely to base.

() () ()

Not wanting Bravo to find him lollygagging while the others worked, Clay had started to climb out of the truck. He'd lost his grip when his hurt hand cramped, ended up sitting on his ass in the snow, and there he stayed gearing up to find the strength to gain his feet and face the wrath of Jason who he expected any minute.

He was sure he heard the distant sound of approaching motors so he pushed his heels into a chunk of snow to use the momentum to push off and up to his feet and stand when he was grabbed from behind. At first, he didn't fight, thinking it was Seth but when he ever so slowly looked up, he saw two masked men and the 'fight or flight' lessons drilled into him during training, kicked in.

He chose fight, because yeah, fleeing wasn't an option.

Perhaps if he wasn't so tired, perhaps if he didn't feel like shit, perhaps if he were dressed for the weather, perhaps if he wasn't so cold, perhaps if he'd come out here armed, perhaps if he hadn't unloaded heavy cargo from a truck half an hour or so ago, perhaps if he'd eaten a hot meal, perhaps if he wasn't so weak, perhaps if he didn't feel so worn out...he might have had a chance.

If he yelled, Seth and Summer would come running, but neither were armed. The truck drivers were armed but Clay couldn't count on them to come running and he doubted Seth or Summer would think to take their weapons when they came in answer to his call. He wondered what these men wanted? The ammo? The truck? An American Soldier? Would they approach the truck? Should he warn the others?

The distant rumbling of the approaching trucks was louder, Bravo was close...all he had to do was hold them off until help arrived….he could do it, he would do it.

He didn't do it.

Two against one wouldn't have been much of a problem for Clay, if he hadn't been worn out and freezing, still they didn't take him easily.

He shook off the fist to his eye that snapped his head back, kept his feet. The fist to his mouth split his lip, drew blood. He bit his cheek when his head whipped to the side. A fist to the gut swooshed the breath right out of him. He grunted, doubled over. The time to call for help had passed, he no longer had the breath to yell, but he was still on his feet.

Perhaps if he hadn't been clubbed in the back of his head behind his left ear, he might have been able to hold off the attack until Bravo got there. All he had to do was yelp and Brock would release Cerberus, the team's fastest member, who would race to his side...but pain exploded in his head, making him see burst of lights, his ears rang and he fell face-forward into the snow.

() () ()

Summer was startled when he heard the dog attack. He'd been raised with dogs; knew their different barks and growls. This was no warning growl, this was an outright attack. He knew the exact moment the dog bit and broke skin because the human yelp overrode the vicious growling. Where the hell had the dog found someone to attack out here?

He spun around when he heard gun fire. The hell?!

"JASON?!" Ray shouted. "Stay." He commanded the men attaching more chains to the truck from one of the Humvee's, when they paused, looked up. "Defensive positions." He added when there was more rapid gun fire.

Summer froze, what the hell was going on? Ray had remained to protect the trucks and the cargo but the way he was pacing, staring in the direction of the commotion, told Summer he wanted to do more than simply stare in that direction. Ray wanted to bolt after his team, but he obeyed whatever order he'd been given.

"NOT AGAIN!" Sonny yelled. "SONOFABITCH!"

Not again what, Summer thought. He couldn't believe the activity wasn't far away at all. He easily pieced together what had happened. Someone had gotten near enough to the trucks to take Spenser and he hadn't heard a god-damn thing. It didn't make him feel any better that Seth and the two drivers hadn't either, he should have heard or sensed something.

"SPENSER?" Ray yelled.

Summer felt his stomach knot, his spine tingled.

Where was Clay? Did someone have him? Why? Who? Summer swallowed hard, hands clenched into fists. He looked at the cab, the cab where Clay Spenser was supposed to be. Not good. Not good.

"They'll get him." Ray muttered to Chris. "Ain't letting him get taken again. This time, we're here." He sent four of the seven men Jason had left behind, out to see what was going on.

"Taken by whom?" Summer felt a mite better knowing Ray hadn't completely panicked, so no reason for him to. He felt sick. If Bravo hadn't come after Spenser - for whatever reason, he didn't even care right now - then the trucks would likely have been attacked. He'd have lost the cargo. "What if it's a diversion to get the ammo?" He asked Ray.

"They can have it." Ray responded. "They don't get Spenser."

Summer didn't agree with that, but he didn't lead the team, wasn't even second in command. Still, he didn't know if he could just stand aside and let thieves take off with a truck load of ammo because everyone was out looking for Clay.

"LET'S MOVE!" Ray yelled. "Get that truck out!"

() () ()

Sonny crouched on the tree limb, prayed to some Saint or another that it was strong enough to hold his weight. From the ground, Bravo couldn't see where the men who had taken Clay hunkered down. They were out-numbered but they hadn't tried to flee or surrender. They'd retreated and held their ground, firing back at Bravo, who, in the dark were at a disadvantage because while they knew the men had an unconscious Clay, they couldn't see him.

Davis had warned them a storm was coming, blizzard, most likely, and it interfered with communications, so they were without comms. Which was usual when Clay was missing. It was so common anymore Bravo couldn't even get disgusted about it. So yeah, a blizzard, previously 'not-predicted' was just about right in this situation and more than anything, Sonny wanted to be back on base, Clay in his possession when it hit.

Brock was below him, asked what he could see, did he know anything?

"Yeah." Sonny whispered. "They holed up in a ravine and….. SHIT!" Sonny ignored the danger of standing on an icy tree branch more than ten feet off the ground that might not support his weight, rose to his full height. "Snowmobiles coming…..GO! GO NOW!" He shouldered his machine gun, said a prayer that their kid could get himself safely hidden and laid cover.

Shit, Jason thought, as Sonny let loose. The men had hunkered down and waited for reinforcements – a way out. They didn't want a fight, they wanted to flee and somehow, he doubted they'd be willing to leave Clay behind. There went any hope it was the ammo they were after.

Yeah, well, they were taking off with Clay over his dead body. And Sonny's, Trent's, Brock's…hell, everyone. Ducking, he lowered his head and ran forward.

Ray heard the eruption of gun fire, knew when the smoke bombs were thrown, the bang-bombs…Jesus Christ! How many hostiles were out there? What did they want? Bravo was launching a full-on attack…..why? A desperate effort to get Clay back? Or had they found Clay….dead?

"JASON?!"

Clay was lifted, carried, tossed into something hard and cold. He was just beginning to stir when an engine revved and the floor beneath his cheek vibrated, the noise so loud, his aching head revolted, splitting his skull into two and he went limp.

Sonny cursed….Bravo had circled around, closed off the route the snowmobiles had come, their only way out now, was directly below the tree where he was perched. He watched them toss Clay into a sled pulled behind one of the snowmobiles…come on, come on…..come this way….he dared them…..and they did.

He crouched, gun tossed aside, waited….waited….waited…..jumped….landed on the two men on the snowmobile as it zoomed beneath him….his weight combined with the distance he fell and the speed of the snowmobile knocked both men off of it, upended the sled, sent Clay tumbling and left Sonny sprawled and dazed.

Take their kid again? Over his dead body!

Kenny and Karl were there, ignored Sonny, focused on taking the two men into custody. Brock was there, ignored Sonny, focused on Clay, but the fight wasn't over and everyone's first priority was staying alive and letting no one get taken.

Clay groaned, fought his way back to consciousness with reluctance and resistance. He didn't want to wake up…..it hurt to even think about it, but he knew gun fire when he heard it. Sluggishly, he thought he should find his rifle, take position and…..do something. But he couldn't. He didn't know how or what, just knew he should do...it.

He was on his stomach, tried to push up with his hands, failed. Tried to dig his toes into the ground, pull his knees to his stomach, failed. The snow was too soft, he was too cold, the noise, every sound, was too loud, the lights were sporadic…..was he seeing lights because his head was spazzing or because fireworks were going off? Whatever, he wasn't moving.

He tried to roll over but that didn't happen either. Okay, here was good….no need to move…..oh...a nudge, a lick, a wet nose. Soft whimpering, a warm tongue, more nudging, a head butt. The whimpering became a whine, the whine a growl, paws pawed at his shoulder, dug at the snow around him. A furry head wedged its way under his chin, nudged, licked his cheek, his eye, his ear.

A weight on his back, a tug on the ass of his jeans…a dog would nose and nudge wherever he could reach until he received the response he was looking for. Cerberus was all over Clay, jumping from one side to the other. Walked on his back, his thighs, his shoulders. Wormed his head under Clay's hood, licked the back of his neck – whine, whimpered, growled, until finally, Clay flopped onto his back and then Cerberus was all over him licking and lapping until, finally laying down on his chest and resting his snout on Clay's exposed neck.

From there, he dared anyone to come anywhere near his human and walk away with all skin intact. This human was part of his pack, and he protected his pack.

() () ()

Over half the cargo transferred, Chris driving the Humvee, and the driver of the recently loaded truck driving it, the stuck truck finally was pulled free. Ray ordered everyone to load up. The Humvee was detached and the two trucks were security chained together for a tow back to base.

All they needed to head out was the rest of Bravo.

A sharp whistle, the sound of heavy, thudding feet and the warmth on Clay's chest shifted. He reached with his bad hand for the furry weight but grasped nothing and his hand fell into the snow with a plop. Cerberus was on his feet, standing over Clay, barking incessantly...and with each bark, a needle stabbed his skull just behind his ear.

"CLAY?" Snow sprayed across his chest, landed on his face. "CLAY?! CLAY?! DAMMIT MAN, TALK TO ME! **_CLAY_**!" Clay lay at the bottom of a short but steep hill, the yelling came from above him. "MOVE! DAMN YOU!"

He knew that voice. It meant strength, protection, safety. It was a voice he was conditioned to respond to and it prompted him into immediate action. He rolled to his side, then his belly, got his knees beneath him, managed to rock and sway unsteadily on all fours.

"CLAY! GIVE ME YOUR HAND! COME ON! GIVE ME YOUR HAND!"

Cerberus came up under his arm, nudged at his chin, nosed his shoulder. Clay got it, he did, the dog wanted him to move, he knew he had to, the urgency and desperation in the voice told him he had to, but it was hard….so hard….too hard.

Jason was staggered half way down the bank, anchored by Kenny holding his left arm, who was anchored by Karl holding his left arm….a human chain. Gun fire continued over their heads as members of Bravo attempted to hold off the approach of some kind of armored snow vehicle, steadily making its way to Clay's location.

If Jason didn't get a hold of Clay and drag him up the hill, they'd most likely lose him to whoever was intent on taking him. Jason didn't get it. These men were out-numbered, why didn't they simply give up on taking Clay and just flee? No other Bravo team member was in danger of being kidnapped, just Clay, so maybe it was just a soldier they wanted and wouldn't easily give up.

Cerberus was barking in his ear, the white world around him turned dark, the decibel level behind his ability to tolerate.

"Gah!" He winced in pain, going down on one elbow. The barking stopped and licking his cheek resumed. Cerberus ran around him in a circle, dashed behind him, pushed with his head against Clay's left buttock.

"TAKE MY HAND DAMN YOU!"

Cerberus now had his sleeve in his jaws, was tugging, tail wagging, low growl encouraging Clay to move forward.

 _That's it human, forward. Go forward. Help is right there. Take his hand. You must go. You must…you are hurt, they are here to help you. Come my friend, time to go. You cannot stay here._

Clay twisted his fingers into the thick fur, Cerberus instantly stilled, waited for Clay to grab hold of his vest. Clay gained his knees, crawled forward, reached out blindly for the extended hand with the waggling fingers, missed, tried a second time…he was caught, the grip strong. He was dragged forward, snow and gravel and rock dislodged, pelted around him as he was dragged up the bank on his belly by one hand, scrabbling with his knees.

He reached level ground, collapsed, remained sprawled as he fell, but he wasn't left alone. Multiple hands reached for him and soon, he was moving again, this time, carried in the arms of someone he knew and trusted.

"I've got ya." Jason said gruffly. Clay was jostled, gathered, picked up, hugged, lifted completely off the ground – and none-to-gently either. When he squirmed, he was hoisted, his feet were picked up and he was juggled backwards into the arms of whoever held him.

He lacked coordination, couldn't open his eyes or make his hands do what he wanted them to, but he knew who had him so he went limp and let them carry him. The arms that held him were cold, but the promised warmth had him snuggling into their strength and comfort. His head lolled to the side, chin to his chest, his cheek nestled against a sleeve.

He heard a door open and suddenly hot air was blowing in his face. He was held, then shifted to someone else, finally lowered into someone's lap. He fought briefly, murmuring a protest and made a half-hearted attempt to pull away and sit up, but his effort was no more than a shrug of a shoulder and a limp wave. Didn't matter, he was firmly held so he gave in, let his weight become lax and heavy, submitted.

Trent soon had Clay's boots off, then his wet jeans, then the long johns. He unzipped the kids coat, tossed his gloves, worked his arms out of the sleeves while Jason held him, paused at the appearance of his sliced, bruised, bloody palm, pulled the coat from beneath him. Summer, ordered into the heated Humvee by Jason, sat and watched, drank hot coffee poured into a lid from a thermos.

"Trent?" Ray stood on the running board, opened the door, popped his head in. "How is he?"

"Should get him inside." He muttered around the flashlight he held with his teeth. He was happy that though Clay was cold to touch, his lips weren't blue, his teeth chattered and he shivered. "Clay, hey, you know me? Who am I?"

His cheek was smacked, smacked a second time, harder the third time. He wanted to tell them to stop slapping him but didn't have the strength to speak, managed to turn his head, only to have this other cheek smacked.

"D'n't."

"Who am I?" Trent held his chin, squeezed. Didn't want to shake his head until he knew the extent of all injuries. "Hey, Clay...say my name."

"T'en'ch."

Close enough. "Deep breaths." Trent ordered. "Who's holding you?"

Clay tilted his head up, moved it to the left, saw Summer, who he didn't recognize, snuggled closer to Jason who leaned forward into Clay's direct line of vision and looked down. "O'ss."

"Sonny need me?" Trent asked Ray.

"He's with Brock. Kenny and Karl are with them. Nothing broken, he's conscious." Which translated to; see to Clay first, Sonny can wait.

Trent felt Clay's pulse, counted, nodded. The kid was slightly confused, sluggish, slow to respond but his breathing was normal, pulse was normal. "Hold my hand." He ordered.

He didn't hold his own out, waited for Clay to raise his hand and find it. He didn't. When Trent held Clay's hand and squeezed, Clay didn't squeeze back. Trent raised Clay's hand, let go. It promptly dropped. Slightly clumsy, mild fumbling. Worrisome, but not cause for panic. That time would come after they warmed him up and he didn't respond.

"Okay, ok." Trent toweled Clay's hair, it wasn't wet, but his bangs curled damply. He paused when Clay cried out, probed with his fingers for the cause, found the fist-sized lump, sighed, left it alone. He rubbed Clay's cheeks briskly with the towel, then pulled a battery-heated hat over his head, down to cover his ears. He didn't care what science said or what facts had been proven and what research and data supported...you didn't go outside with a wet head. You caught your death, Grandma said so.

Ray pulled his head out of the Humvee, closed the door, jumped down. Trent soon had warm, dry, heated socks on Clay's feet, pulled him away from Jason, ignored his squawk of protest.

"Can you pick him up?" Trent asked Jason, who in his cramped position, shook his head. There simply wasn't enough room. "Summer, take him a minute."

Summer blinked, do what?

"Hold him." Trent said impatiently. "I want this under him so I can pull it around his shoulders."

Summer shrugged, okay, whatever. He finished the coffee in the lid - which pissed Trent off - set it aside, got up, hunched over and reached to pick Clay up from the seat…..yeah, Clay wasn't having it. Though he couldn't open his eyes completely, he was able to part his lashes and he didn't know this person. He was big, the space confined and Clay had no intention of letting this guy anywhere near him.

"Heyheyheyhey." Trent shushed him as Clay fought against letting Summer touch him. "Okay, okay." He motioned Summer away, watched Clay find Jason's sleeve and get a firm, tight two-fisted grip. Yeah, he wasn't letting go of Jason anytime soon. "Easy. Take it easy." He murmured.

"That's new." Jason commented, twisting and contorting himself into an uncomfortable position to maneuver Clay away from him so Trent could sling a large, oversize parka around his shoulders and zip it up to his chin without bothering to put his arms through the sleeves. He winced...yeah, he was in great shape, but no human body was meant to bend into this position on the backseat of a military off-road Humvee - not even those Chinese acrobats who could twist themselves into the shape of a pretzel.

"He doesn't know him." Trent bundled a blanket around Clay's shoulders, waited for Jason to twist back around, go up on his knees and lift Clay from the seat, then pulled the blanket down his back, around his hips and covered his legs, tucking it tightly around him until he was cocooned.

"He have coffee?" Jason asked once Clay had settled down in his lap. He and Clay were on the seat, Trent knelt in the foot-well but he didn't even notice. Trent hesitated, shrugged.

"Can try. There's chicken broth. He usually likes it better." Trent opened the door. "Gimme five."

Summer dug out the various thermoses. He knew which one had coffee, but there were several others.

"Green one." Jason told Summer. He took it when Summer held it out. With his lap full of shivering Clay, his arms were hampered, their movement limited, but he juggled and twisted and managed to uncap the thermos and pour its contents into the lid.

Trent had gone to check on Sonny, but Jason thought Summer should have at least offered to put down his now refilled cup and help him open the thermos.

"Thanks bud." He spit sarcastically. "I got it." He set the open thermos on the floor, held the lid to Clay's lips. Summer just shrugged, drank his coffee and watched. He expected Clay to dig his hands out, take the cup, but nope. "Clay? Hey kid, want this?"

Clay could smell it, coffee. Hot, strong coffee. Not that he could recall or know it, but it was decaf with cream, no sugar. Trent wouldn't want him having caffeine for a while, would want him to sleep. He was cold, wanted the coffee, but his hands didn't obey his commands to rise and hold the cup. Hell, he wasn't even sure he was giving them a command, he just knew he wanted the coffee.

"I've got it." Jason said quietly. "Let me."

The door opened, the dog jumped in, Brock climbed in, Trent behind him. Brock picked up the open thermos, took a drink, settled himself on the seat, Clay's feet in his lap. Chris got behind the wheel, someone hopped in the passenger seat, the other seats filled, and with a full occupancy, Chris pulled out.

"Sonny good?" Jason asked Trent, who nodded, helped himself to one of the thermoses. He drank some coffee, offered a full cup to Jason, then opened another thermos.

Clay stirred as the tantalizing scent of chicken soup filled the Humvee. His head rolled on Jason's stomach and he pulled away from the cup of coffee he'd been sipping from.

"Smell good?" Trent teased, "Bet it does." He knelt in the foot-well again. "Here, you go." He offered Clay the hot broth, pleased when he drank it, swallowed and accepted more.

"He's hurt." Jason stated.

"Can wait until we get to the infirmary," Trent replied. "Black eye, split lip, huge knot behind his left ear."

"Clubbed over the head?" Jason asked.

"Mmmm, yeah. No concussion."

"You don't sound happy about that." Brock commented.

Trent shrugged. "This is Clay. He heals quickly, shakes off an injury like no one else, but he's gonna hurt. His night is gonna suck."

Jason was quiet, moved his foot to an odd angle so the dog had a place to sit. Trent had to smack Summer's leg repeatedly to make him so the same. "You think he's so sluggish because of the cold? Or because they gave him something?"

Trent shrugged, made a face. "It's Clay."

Fuck.

"We brought three back alive...I'll beat it out of someone." Jason assured Trent.


	3. Chapter 3

Merry Christmas ya'll!

In between the shopping, decorating, wrapping, baking, cooking and cleaning, we were unexpectedly given half the day off on Christmas Eve, so...I got busy...Come on the return of new episodes!

* * *

The ride to base wasn't long. Not nearly long enough for Clay to warm up or come around, Trent blamed the knot on his head for his mopey-dopey-ness rather than admit whoever had tried to take him, had drugged him. Chris pulled up in front of the infirmary. Doc was waiting, Sonny and Ray already inside.

"What we got?" Doc asked. Clay went limp and floppy when the doors of the Humvee opened and he felt the blast of cold air. Protesting the hands that picked him up by squirming, not wanting to leave the warmth of the arms that held him or the warmth of the Humvee, he shrank back, pulling his knees up to brace his weight on his heels against the seat. Trent and Brock plucked him from Jason's arms, plopped him on a wheeled gurney and Trent and the doc were off, doc telling Trent, "Quinn's in x-ray…..shoulder, took a hard fall."

"Jason?" Eric was there. The third Humvee pulled up, the three prisoners were unloaded, taken away. "The hell?"

"You went to get Clay." Lisa stood, hands on her hips. "What happened? Who are they?"

"Someone tried to take him." Jason replied, waved off Lisa's 'what'. "Dunno, about to find out." He headed off with Eric, who was wearily rubbing his forehead muttering about retirement and Mandy, who had somehow appeared, on their heels, asking questions, demanding answers.

"Everyone good?" Davis asked Brock. "Hey boy, look at you! So cute, your vest." She gave the dog several head rubs and ear scratches. "What happened?"

"Yeah, uh, Lisa." Brock began, she pulled up, stared him down. Summer didn't know the use of her first name was the way the guys warned her someone was hurt or something was wrong. "Dunno, we got there, couldn't find Clay. Cerberus tracked him down, someone had taken him, was waiting for transportation. Sonny foiled that plan, jumped out of a tree."

"He did what?"

"He was covering us and they got Clay on a snowmobile, well, in a sled behind one and Sonny jumped when it passed beneath him….."

Lisa threw her hands up. "Tell me inside."

Summer stood alone in the cold, outside the infirmary, wondering if the guy who had been attacked by the dog would get medical care. Within a matter of seconds, yes, seconds, everyone was gone, no one remained. Well, okay then, damn. He should do what? Everyone seemed to know their roll, what to do, where to go but he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

"Right." He wanted to change into something dry and warm. If anyone needed him, they could come get him. He hadn't really believed all the talk and warnings about Clay. It had sounded so far-fetched, he'd thought they were pranking him. An elaborate prank, sure, but come on! No man would be allowed to operate as an elite Seal being, uh, allergic to well, medication.

But now, now he was being to think maybe Bravo had been telling him the truth and he should have paid attention, 'cause he had no idea what the hell was going on.

"Summer?" Ray was waving at him from the door of the infirmary. "Come get checked out."

Summer gestured him off. "I'm good." He was still wrapping his head around the fact Bravo had geared up, loaded up and arrived in armored off-road Humvee's to retrieve their wayward sniper. Both Clay and Seth had said they'd come, but:

1) Summer hadn't believed them. 2) He sure as hell hadn't expected the entire support team to come with Bravo. 3) He couldn't get over the fact they'd gotten permission in the first place which led to. 4) Blackburn had met them at the infirmary without batting an eye when they'd returned with three prisoners he hadn't known anything about.

"Wasn't a suggestion." Ray had poked his head out to speak, withdrew back inside. Summer sighed, headed in. "Joe's just gonna check you over." He waited for Summer to ask about Clay or Sonny, when he didn't, Ray sighed, shook his head. "Joe, you find anything, let me know."

"You bet."

"Summer, come see me when you're done here." Ray said. "Again, not a suggestion."

Ray checked on Sonny who was getting x-rays on his shoulder, then asked after Clay, who was having blood drawn. With both under the team doc's care, Ray returned to their quarters. Sucked they'd have to wait several hours for the blood test results, but better than having to wait a whole day.

() () ()

"I say," the doc shook his head. "What is it with this one? Poor guy can't catch a break. Went to pull a truck out of a ditch, ends up kidnapped and beaten, thrown from a moving vehicle."

"Better thrown than taken." Trent huffed, wondered the same thing. His relief having gotten Clay back was stunted over the fact they hadn't been fast enough to prevent him from being taken in the first place.

"True that." Doc agreed. "Gotta say, I think that lucky horseshoe is cursed….might save his life, but puts him in these situations to begin with."

"Didn't see any signs of a concussion." Trent said when the doc probed and fingered the lump behind his ear. "He's gonna cry though, he comes around. That's gotta hurt."

"Hell of a bump." Doc tutted, nodded his agreement. "Didn't break skin…you'd think a blow that hard would have split his skull clear open. Odd that, he should have one hell of a concussion, but he don't."

"Just when you think he can't surprise you." Trent grinned. "Hard head." He picked up Clay's bandaged hand, began to unwrap the bloody, hastily applied field bandage. "Cut looks deep, but clean." He squeezed hard, felt Clay tense, then squeeze back.

"No damage." Doc agreed, taking Clay's hand from Trent to inspect. "Fingers aren't numb, color's good, reacts to pain."

Clay heard the voices, the sound no more than a hum that buzzed, still it was familiar. He was lifted and rolled, tugged and pushed, soon he lay on the table in nothing but his boxer briefs, shivering in the air while his hand was held, cleaned, numbed, stitched and wrapped.

He felt warm fingers and cold stethoscopes. A rubber strap tightened around his arm, a needle pricked his skin, then a rude invasion into his mouth. One by one, his teeth were wiggled, his gums thumbed, his lip lifted….ow….he hissed, that stung. He pushed against the intrusion with his tongue, tasted latex, made a face.

"Don't like that, do ya?" Doc chortled. "Fist to the mouth, gotta check your teeth. Bit your cheek, eh?"

"Think they gave him anything?" Trent asked. Clay was unusually docile….no jerking his head away, no flinching in pain, no scowling, no slapping at hands, no trying to sit up, not even a grunt.

"Do you?"

"Suspect it, yeah." Trent sighed. "He was under dressed for the weather, but he had long johns on, decent coat with a hood, gloves. He wasn't outside all that long and when he was dumped out of the sled, we were right there. Jason had him within minutes."

"Blood tests will take a few hours, there's a lab on site." Doc thumbed open Clay's good eye, flashed a light at him again. "He doesn't react negatively to light, but doesn't follow it either, so, yeah, you're probably right."

Trent snorted. "We brought three in alive. Jason's on it."

"Aaah." Doc decided it best to let it go. Violence just made more work for him. Then again, he wouldn't be the doctor attending the three captives. His job was Bravo. He gently thumbed all around Clay's swollen eye that would be a nice shade of black by morning.

"I didn't feel anything broken." Trent said, patted, held Clay's knee when he shifted uneasily. "Almost done."

"Just a nasty shiner," the doc agreed. He gave up trying to pry open the swollen eyelid when Clay stirred with a groan. "Get some ice for his noggin, let him rest a bit. You gonna leave him here?"

"Rather take him with me."

"Thought as much." Doc scribbled on a clipboard. "My supply of pain meds is limited. The base pharmacy isn't well-stocked. I've got Tramadol."

"He's taken it before." Trent hesitated. "Just, if they dosed him with something…"

"I'll wait on Jason?" The doc posed it as a question, Trent nodded. "He's getting antsy."

"He's cold." Trent said. Doc nodded, popped his head out the door and soon someone brought warmed blankets. "He was with it enough to drink some coffee, some chicken broth. He..." Trent paused when Clay looked up at him, blue eye clear and questioning. "Hey, you with me?"

"Doc?" Joe leaned in, Summer lingered behind him. "He's good. You wanna look him over or sign off?"

"I'll…" Doc began, helped Trent spread the blankets over Clay, tuck them around his shoulders, made sure his toes were covered. "...sign off."

"Guess." Clay spoke, doc fell silent, sat down, picked up his clipboard, to scribbled some more. So, Mr. Spenser responded to being cold by coming around. Huh. That was new. "Trent." He said before he could be told to say who he was with.

"Mind telling me what the fuck you were doing outside?" Trent demanded, and none to nicely either.

"Jay-son...uh," Clay dug his hands out, rubbed his forehead, was having a difficult time concentrating. "...told me to unload the, um, ammo truck. Then...it...another...was stuck. Got Seth..."

"No way in hell did Jason tell you to do any such thing." Trent shook his head. "You were sent to bed, he expected you to stay there." He watched Clay wince, frown, try and work through what he was being told. "Why would you even go?"

Bewildered, Clay looked at his bandaged hand, last remembered it bleeding, palmed his forehead. Ow, even that slight pressure made it sting. Trent had a point. It didn't make sense Jason would have sent him out after he'd been ordered to the cabin to go to bed. And he was only outside during the day, when the sun was up.

"He sent..." Clay opened his eyes, squinted. "Him." He pointed at Summer who lingered in the doorway, stared at the bandage around his hand intently with an odd expression. "I hurt it?"

Doc frowned. "Sure did."

"Summer." Trent turned to face him. "Did Jason tell you to get Clay?"

"He said to get one of the guys. Clay was the only one in barracks."

"He meant one of support." Trent sighed. Oh hell, this was going to blow up into a shit show. He smacked Clay gently. "Why the hell did you go with him?"

Clay stared. Jason hadn't ordered him, through Summer, to go help unload the truck? Maybe if he'd been clear-headed he would have questioned Summer at the cabin, but he'd just woken up and Jason had been on him hard...and...and...Mexico!

"Mexico." He answered simply.

Way to go boss, what you get for being a dick and not letting the kid know he was off your shit list...he thought you wanted him to unload ammo trucks because you rode his ass over being questioned in Mexico. Fuck, would that mission ever go away?

What the hell had Summer been thinking? Good God, Trent didn't know who was going to put the cocky bomb tech on his ass first; himself, Sonny, Jason.

"He's usually grounded to quarters most nights for pulling some stupid stunt or another during the op." He told Summer. "And it's not on us to unload ammo trucks. Sure as shit isn't his job."

"Doc, Quinn's having a fit." A nurse/medic pushed in beside Joe. "Hey Trent."

Summer stepped aside, wondered what made Clay Spenser so special, that 'sure as shit', a job wasn't his to do.

The doc looked startled, pushed up from his stool in alarm, set the clipboard aside.

"Temper tantrum." Trent corrected, waved doc off. "What doesn't he want?" He asked the nurse.

"MRI."

The doc sighed, lowered his head, stared at the floor, raised his head, stared at the ceiling. Oh boy, this team. "Does he need one?" Damn that Blackburn and his sweet-talking ways for convincing him how easy this job would be. Snort.

"Uh, yeah?"

"I'll go." Trent paused. "Summer, I'll be right back, stay with Clay." He hesitated. Jason wanted them to accept Summer, work as a team. He'd do his part, give Summer a test, trust him this one last time. "Stay with him. Don't let anyone give him anything. Don't let him out of your sight. Don't leave him alone. You lose him again….." He stared Summer down until the bomb tech nodded. "Jason's finding out what they gave him, there's no way to know how he'll react. Got me?"

Summer nodded again and Trent left with the medic to go wrangle Sonny's stubborn ass into submission. It wouldn't take long, Trent could easily manipulate him by throwing 'poor Clay' in his face. Then he'd find a men's room, wash up...

With Summer, a man Clay knew and recognized and had acknowledged not two minutes ago, instructed to watch him, doc stepped out to call Blackburn and check up on Jason's progress.

Joe saw the tablets sitting in the tiny pill-dosage paper cup on the counter near the bed, read the doctor's notes on the clipboard, held two 100mg tablets out to Clay, who confused and disoriented, but warm and cozy, blinked hazily up at Summer through his functioning eye for permission to accept them. When Summer didn't tell him no, he opened his mouth, lapped them up with his tongue, swallowed them. Joe checked off the chart, nodded to Summer and left.

When a nurse came in with a doctor, neither of whom Clay had seen before, Summer, tired of waiting for Trent to return, decided Clay was in good hands with a trained, competent medical staff and Joe just outside at a desk, left to report to Ray.

Clay yawned. He was warm. He was comfortable. He felt…..strange, floaty. The lights became pretty colors of purple and green. No, not green, aqua. Turquoise? So pretty…..lalalalala….the lights merged, separated, reformed into a shape of…well, something pretty. It beckoned to him, floated, bobbed, swayed like a kite being flown on a nice spring day.

He watched the purple and green colored unidentifiable creation weave and continuously morph into different shapes until suddenly, the air around his pretty vision clouded, turned dark. He tensed, turned his head to search for Summer, the last person he recognized that he knew had been with him, saw faces he did not know.

"MEEEP!" Went Clay.

Trent returned within three minutes to utter chaos.  
There was no Summer.  
There was no Clay.  
Doc returned within five minutes to a raging Trent and three quaking medical personnel.  
Jason showed up in the door with a bruised hand, bloody knuckles and an answer – chloral hydrate.  
David reported the blizzard had begun.  
Within minutes, everyone on base was on the hunt for one missing Clay Spenser.

***000***

The door flew open…No, not flew. Banged? It was kicked open, bounced, the door knob punched a perfect hole in the wall…..and there was Sonny...snow-covered, wearing only a t-shirt and camo pants. Ray looked up, startled, but not moved to immediate action.

"YOU SONOFABITCH!" Sonny yelled, hands fisted. "THE FUCK YOU ASSHOLE?!"

Ray looked around, he knew Sonny was not speaking to him. Would never speak to him like that, so that left who? Summer? Okay, yeah, he knew Summer was on everyone's shit list, and Sonny hadn't warmed up to the 'new guy' yet, Sonny took forever to warm up to people, and if he took forever, well, Clay took millennia. But that was no excuse for Sonny to act like a mad mountain-man.

Ray shook his head, sighed. This was what Trent had warned them about, he'd told them anyone they added to the team, especially if no one left it – whatever sense that made – would cause a problem with Clay. And here it was, at his doorstep. Oh boy.

"Aah, Sonny, whoa dude?" Ray said calmly. "Doc let you out of the infirmary already? You good, then?"

"The hell did you do?" Sonny shouted, hands balled into fists ready to throw a punch. "So help you God, you better tell me you left him with SOMEONE or I will bounce your fucking HEAD off the wall!"

"You and who else?" Summer taunted.

"Me." Brock backed Sonny up. Cerberus was at his side, raised a lip, snarled at Summer. "You've got some balls."

That got Ray to set his book aside, get to his feet. He didn't need to ask if he needed to get the middle of this. Sonny wasn't playing. The friendly, 'whatcha doing' tone was not going to work this time. He needed to pull rank, assert authority or there was going to be a brawl.

"SONNY!" Ray stepped forward, hands up in a placating gesture. "Stand down man. We don't fight with each other."

Could he get between the two? Would Summer fight back? Would Sonny go for blood? Brock was definitely on Sonny's side. Calm, quiet, passive Brock stood there with anger-murder in his eyes. What was that about? If this was over some practical joke….after the night they'd just had…he was gonna knock heads together.

Cerberus growled, his hackles rose. Ray's eyes widened, the dog looked ready to attack!

"Oh yes, we do!" Sonny shouted. "Trent gave the dumb dick an order Ray."

"He doesn't give me orders." Summer said calmly.

Trent did what?

"Yes, he does!" Sonny spat just as Ray nodded and said. "Yes, he does."

"No, he doesn't." Summer stepped forward, faced Sonny. "In combat, in the field, on a mission where his position outranks me, I will obey his orders, but not here, not on down time."

"We're not on down time!" Sonny raged. "Someone tried to **_take_** one of us, you ass! There's no down time until they're caught and we know why!"

Ray ignored Summer. If he threw the first punch, Jason would send him packing, problem solved. If Sonny threw the first punch, he wouldn't be going anywhere and he damn well knew it. Dammit.

"Sonny, calm down." Ray tried again. "Let's talk about this."

"Trent told that sun-loving hippy to watch the kid, not to let him out of his sight. Told him we didn't know if Clay was given anything. He knows Clay throws reactions to unknown medications. We all told him! **_I_** **_TOLD HIM RAY_**! You did! Doc did! _**WE ALL DID**_!"

Ray swallowed, cast a look over his shoulder at Summer. "That true?"

Summer nodded. "It is." He just didn't see the big deal. "He's in the infirmary with a doctor, a nurse, a med..."

"HE DOESN'T KNOW THEM!" Sonny exploded. "WE FINALLY FIGURED THAT SONOFABITCH OUT AND I'M NOT GONNA LOSE HIM NOW BECAUSE YOUR PUNK-ASS CAN'T DO AS YOU'RE TOLD!"

"Sonny," Ray began calmly.

"Sonny's right." Brock spoke up. "Too many heart-stopping moments this last year, Ray. We hung in there, got him - us - each other - through everything that happened. Every incident, every reaction, every symptom. I'm standing here today because he doesn't bat an eye or hesitate or over-think. I'm okay with that Ray. I'm not okay with Summer leaving the kid on his own because he was tired of waiting for Trent to get back."

"Wait." Ray put both hands up. "Waitwaitwaitwait. Where's Clay?" He was beginning to get a really bad feeling about...well, everything. "Brock, what..."

"I didn't leave him alone. I left him in the infirmary with a medical staff." Summer ignored both Sonny and Brock, spoke to Ray.

"YOU WERE TOLD NOT TO LET HIM OUT OF **_YOUR_** SIGHT, YOU DUMB FUCK!"

"If you're all so concerned about him being alone with the medical staff, Trent never should have left him." Summer was trying to keep his temper, really trying. He was fairly calm, but couldn't keep the sneer completely off his face. "He had to go talk your ass into submitting to the MRI."

"Take that sneer off your face." Brock's tone promised violence if he didn't. "You have nothing to be smug about."

Sonny's fist flew, connected, Summer's head snapped back just as Ray pushed him aside, so, only a glancing blow.

"SONNY! That is enough!" Ray barked harshly. "BACK OFF!" Stunned, he turned to Summer. "That true?" He asked. "Trent asked you to stay with Spenser because he had to go see Sonny and you went and left the kid alone in the infirmary?"

"Trent told Summer..." Brock told Ray.

"Ordered." Summer interrupted.

"Summer to stay with him, not to let him out of his sight, until Trent got back. Minutes. It was only minutes." Cerberus was responding to Brock's tone, was tense and crouched, ready to pounce, and Brock wasn't calling him off. That told Ray just how upset Brock was.

Ray rubbed the back of his head. Not good. Not good. "Guess…..I….where was Doc?"

"Stepped into the hallway to call Blackburn." Sonny was still hot. "Wanted to see if Jason had any success beating what they gave Clay out of any of them. Trent took three fucking minutes for himself…."

"Trent should have..." Summer began, was shut down by Ray.

"Gave Clay? He was drugged?" Ray swallowed. He hadn't known that. Hadn't even known Trent suspected it. "Did he?" Ray asked. "Jason?"

"Chloral hydrate." Brock explained. "He didn't know anyone Ray. The only familiar face was Summer and he left him." He glared at Summer. "Why? Why'd you leave him? Trent wasn't gone even five minutes. You couldn't wait?"

"I left him in competent hands. On a military base. In an infirmary. With qualified medical personnel." Summer's hands were fisted. He'd had enough. "You really expect me to believe..." He too, was stunned. This was beyond a joke. Sonny was panicked, Brock was pissed, Ray was upset. The dog was ready to attack him. What the hell was going on?

"Kid went missing." Sonny told Ray, cut Summer off. "Again. Whole base is looking for him."

"Okay, okay, relax, calm down. He'll be found Sonny, can't have gone far." Ray felt sick, his gut twisted. Cerberus padded to the door, whined. Brock patted his head, told him 'in a minute'.

"You see that?" Brock asked. "Blizzard started. So yeah, Ray, time to panic. We were hoping we'd find him here."

"Let wonder dog here go find him." Summer spat. Ray cuffed him upside his ear in warning.

"Enough Kairos, shut up. I'm trying here." Ray hated telling anyone to shut up, but right about now, fists would shut Summer up if he didn't keep his mouth closed on his own. "He's...not..." He crossed the room, checked Clay's bunk, all the bunks. Strode across the room, checked his room, his bunk, Jason's bunk. "What does Trent think he last remembers? None of us were in danger?" He really needed to get a grip, stop looking in stupid places a man couldn't possibly be.

"No." Brock agreed, Sonny was stalking Summer in a slow, steady circle around the sofa. He did nothing to intervene but Ray placed himself between the two, walked backwards with Summer, faced Sonny, hands out to ward off a lunge, an attack. "Trent thinks he'll try to go back to the ammo truck, where he lasts remembers it being."

"Because that's what he feels he needs to finish." Sonny cursed. "He thinks Jason sent asshole here to get him to help unload the ammo trucks."

"That's..." Ray paused, gave it some thought, sighed. "That's not his job." And it hit him. "Jason's been riding him hard, and he thought it was just another chore he was assigned and he doesn't want to piss Jason off further."

The door banged open again and Trent barreled through it, threw a punch, and when Summer stumbled, tackled him. They went over the sofa, hit the floor.

Ray hopped aside, wondered if he should break up what would become a three on one fight. He cared it was unfair and he felt for Summer, trying to fit in on a team that didn't welcome intrusions. Then, then he reminded himself Summer wasn't trying very hard…..he liked to stir the pot….

"TRENT!" Jason was hot on his heels, Kenny and Karl right behind him. "HEY!"

Ray blinked, Jason had brought muscle with him. So, he'd been expecting a fight. Not good.

Jason went for Trent. Kenny and Karl took hold of Summer, pulled him back as Jason pushed Trent into a corner.

"Don't you dare!" Jason held a palm against Trent's chest, pointed at Summer with his other hand. "You BACK OFF!" He shouted at Summer. "Trent, you good?"

Trent nodded. Summer used the back of his hand to wipe the dribble of blood from his split lip. Wow. Who knew the medic packed such a punch?

"What the hell?!" Ray exploded.

Trent shrugged free of Jason, left the cabin. Jason let him go, stalked Summer.

"Yes or no answers, you got me?" Jason told Summer. "I don't want an explanation. Yes or no or so help me you will land on an iceberg."

Summer nodded, waited.

"Did you leave Clay alone in the infirmary after Trent told you not to let him out of your sight?"

"Yes."

"Did you stand there and watch Joe give him Tramadol?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember _me_ telling you that _no one_ we don't know is allowed to give him medication? Not even aspirin?"

"Yes."

"Get out of my sight." Jason seethed. "Ray, take care of this."

Ray nodded, retrieved his boots and coat. "Where's Clay?" He asked before he followed Summer out the door.

"Doc and Blackburn have him." Jason replied, opening a bottle of whiskey and setting out three glasses. "He was given pain meds on top of chloral hydrate."

Ray nodded, he wasn't expected back soon. He was either to set Summer straight this very night, or by morning, the bomb tech would never see a Bravo mission again.


	4. Chapter 4

Happy New Year!

You guys are great! And you want to keep me busy...I'll do what I can!

* * *

"You have anything to say to defend yourself?" Ray asked once he and Summer were in support's barracks, beers on a table between them. "I'll listen and I'll be fair, but I'm going to be honest, your actions this entire mission haven't painted you in a good light."

"You called the medic by name. I assumed you knew him."

"Nuh-nun, not gonna work." Ray sighed, shook his head. "You assumed, you can't do that. Never do that when it's about Clay. This isn't new, you were told about him on the first mission you did with Bravo. You asked me in Mumbai, I answered your questions. You think this is all some joke, a practical prank. But it's not. Not from me, not from Jason. Never from Trent when one of us is hurt."

"How….it's just…you tell me…..I mean…..how do you expect me to believe it? I….you can't…..Ray, come on!"

"It's been over a year, we finally have him figured out. Not saying it was easy. We had some hair-raising, breath-taking, heart-stopping moments with him." Ray chuckled softly, reminisced. "Lost him in a bet to Charlie, he went on a recon mission with them, we had to go get him."

Had to? Or wanted to? Summer wondered.

"And we lost him in Iceland, then someone tried to take him on an op Delta had lead on, that was a rough day. Then he nearly drowned in Virginia, the little ladies who wanted to keep him were worse to negotiate with then the sheikh who wanted to buy him for his harem. He's been blown up, hit a by a truck...no, wait," Ray made air quotes, "He hit it. Been drugged, taken, beaten, tortured...heck, we left him home on base, found him as a captive with Brock, nearly left him behind...'cause we didn't know." He shuddered, looked so sad, Summer nearly laid a hand on his shoulder.

Summer shook the thought off. "How do you hide it from Blackburn?" He recalled Jason saying Clay was with Doc and Blackburn. "You don't."

"Of course we don't." Ray scowled. "How could we? _Why_ would we? We don't hide anything from him and we have his full support. He'll fuss a bit, but he's as attached to that kid as we are."

"But...why?"

Ray shrugged sheepishly, baffled, he had no answer. There wasn't one.

But he gave it a try anyway.

"This life isn't easy. No matter how good you are, it gets you, drags you down, boxes you in. Yeah, we crash and burn. The blood, the gore, all the violence, what we've seen, the evil, what we know people are capable of doing to each other - it's sadistic...comfort and solace is often found in a bottle, through bursts of anger, we lash out, it's how we deal."

Ray toasted the air, took a drink.

"But then...then came Spenser. And somehow, when he's hurt or senseless - in pain or throwing a reaction - him needing us - letting us - take care of him...just makes everything not so evil. The way he reaches out to hold onto you because you're safety and the comfort he needs...and all you can offer him is a touch, a hand or your lap, and it's enough. He sees you and...because he can, he's...content, calm, secure...and though he's not responsive, he knows you...just, I dunno, makes this job...easier."

He was quiet, drank more beer.

"We all drink more than we should, but since the kid came, even Sonny has backed off a bit. More beer than hard liquor. We need to be sober and on our game to keep track of him." He grinned. "We have a habit of losing him." His grin faded. "I dunno Summer, having him to worry about and focus on, makes us miss home, our families, a little less."

"Then what happened tonight?" Summer understood. Not all of it, but enough. Or so he thought.

"I'm guessing whoever tried to take him, dosed him with chloral hydrate, and you let the medic give him a pain med and the two didn't mix well. You'll never be forgiven for that by Trent, by the way. He trusted you and you dissed him." Ray slunk in his chair, tired and spent. "You ask, I'll answer and if we can't work it out, then you'll have to go. We did fine without you, we'll be fine without you."

"No, I mean, what happened?" He fingered his split lip. He'd have a black eye to rival Clay's. Not to mention a puffy cheek and swollen lip. "I didn't believe... I mean...why? If he's this hard to, uh, manage, why do you guys do this?"

Ray was silent, stared vacantly at some spot on the wall, sighed, hand in his hair. Good Lord, he'd just said why!

"That kid has never lied to us, he has never betrayed us. He has a lot to learn, who better to teach him than Jason? He trusts completely and when he's kicked in the teeth - Stella - he takes it hard. But Summer, he has never once ran from a fight or backed down from a challenge. He will disobey orders and buck authority to come after us, be with us. He can hit whatever he shoots at wherever he aims, he doesn't hesitate to shoot to kill, no matter who he's taking out. If Jason says gut shot, if I say take a knee out, he doesn't bat an eye. That kind of loyalty isn't easily found. Who wouldn't want it?"

"You're okay with it?"

Ray firmly nodded. "I had my chance, had a decision to make, I made it. I'm good with it and I'm not going to stand for you constantly questioning it." His eyes narrowed, his gaze hardened. "You get me?"

Summer nodded, pointed delivered, received, taken.

"I thought you guys were pranking me. I didn't see any of the signs I was told about when we were running ops and you weren't with Bravo. Then, you were and Jason wasn't and Spenser was still fine. He was fine Ray, we lost Adam and other than being shell-shocked, he operated fine. Hell, he was shot and he was fine."

"He took one in the vest. No one had to give him any kind of medication." Ray finished his beer. "He wasn't always like this, doc and Trent think he got bit by an insect or some bug, developed an allergy..." he raised the bottle with a grin at the astonished look on Summer's face. "Yeah, I know. I know. Don't laugh, roll with it. It's easier. The time will come and Bravo splits up...transfer, retirement, injury, death...doc has a medical file, kid will be fine."

"But will Bravo?"

"I know it probably feels like this happens all the time, but really, it doesn't. And when it does, it's a day or two." He got up for more beers. "We'll talk this out, then go back to Bravo's quarters. Take the night to think about it, you want to stay on Bravo, just know, Sonny is never going to like you, Trent is never going to trust you with Clay and Brock will let the dog loose, you keep up that bullshit regarding Cerb."

"Jason threw me out."

"You need to see the night Clay's gonna have. If you don't believe we're telling you the truth after tonight, there's nothing I can say or do to convince you."

Summer nodded. "Gonna get some snow in a towel."

Ray grinned. "You pissed off Trent, not easily done."

"Didn't think he'd be a fighter."

() () ()

Lisa popped in, reported the snow was accumulating quickly, the wind was picking up, generators were ready should power be lost, suggested they stock up on wood inside the cabin because it would be their only source of heat if power did go out. The generators would power the fridge, a light or two, a couple outlets - not the heat.

She explained that guide ropes were strung between buildings, cautioned that if anyone had to leave the cabin and go out in the blizzard, to attach an anchor line to the guide rope. She declined the offer to stay with them in their quarters, appreciated the offer of Clay's bed, but felt more comfortable in her own quarters with Mandy.

Translation: Mandy was working on intel; the prisoners were still being interrogated; the reason why Clay was taken was still unknown; there would be no hunting who tried to take Clay until the blizzard was over and the base dug out.

Sonny, Brock and Jason carried in wood until both sides of the fireplace were stacked, floor to ceiling with chopped logs. Even with heat, the fire was a nice, comforting touch on a night gone to shit.

"In here...no...in...turn the knob...through the door, no! Don't sit down...that's not the door...push...push it...not that way...push." The door opened, Eric stepped into the warmth. "What...HEY! Come back here!" He left the door open, disappeared, came back holding Clay by the arm, shoved him into the cabin.

"SUNnnnnEEeee!" Chirped Clay happily. "I'm baaa-aaaccckkk!" He staggered, weaved, tripped over his feet.

"The fuck?" Chorused the three members of Bravo in the cabin.

Clay somersaulted over the back of the sofa, landed on his back upside down. "Miss me?"

Jason and Brock had identical WTF expressions on their frozen faces. Cerberus sat, head cocked, ears pricked in confusion.

Sonny stood dumbfounded when Clay waved at him, swinging a foot over the side of the sofa arm, head hanging off the sofa cushion. He was clad in a blanket, unlaced boots and socks up to his knees. He looked ridiculous.

"GAH!" yelped Sonny. "You'd better have something on under that blanket. ARRGH!" He covered his eyes when Clay saucily flashed him. "SHIT MAN! MY EYES!"

"Where's Trent?" Jason managed, rolled his eyes at Sonny's dramatic antics. For God's sake, the kid wore underwear.

"Drinking." Eric shortly replied. "Here now Clay, get up, turn around, sit properly."

Clay didn't move, began to sing:

 _...I've got the wind at my back and my foot to the floor..._ _I ain't comin' back to you no more..._ _I'm sick of your shit...and your moaning whine..._ _I'm leaving you for good come rain or shine..._

"Clay, hey bud?" Brock said. "Hi."

"Yo?" He raised a hand, waved. Saw the ace bandage, petted it. "S'up?"

"What'cha singing?"

"Song."

"Singing to anyone in particular?"

He wrinkled his nose, nodded vigorously. "Stella," and he broke into the chorus.

 _...You can cry me a river, cry me a river of tears..._ _Yeah, you can cry all you like but it won't change my mind..._ _I gotta...get away...get you outta my life..._ _You got me runnin' wild and free_

"Blackburn! What the hell?" Jason paced, lips twitching into an affectionate smile.

Clay rolled, shimmied off the sofa, stood, shook the blanket down, hugged Sonny from behind, slung an arm around his shoulders, played air-guitar.

 _...Gonna drive all day gonna drive all night..._ _Whatever it takes to get to the light..._ _I'm running on rage I'm outta control..._ _My anger for you is like hot burning coal..._ _So you can cry me a river, cry me a river of tears..._ _Yeah, you can cry all you like but it won't change my mind..._ _I gotta get away, get you outta my life..._

"Something you want to tell us?" Brock asked Eric who retrieved Clay from wandering around the room singing to the lamp, the mirror, the wall. Sonny having shrugged free, stepped aside so Eric could steer Clay back to the sofa.

"He's been like this since...well...since we found him." Eric was struggling not to laugh. "Walking down the road in his blanket and boots."

"Thank God someone he knew, found him." Brock grinned, afraid if he started laughing, he wouldn't stop. "This is, uh, new."

Unable to stay put, Clay was up and dancing.

... _The open road is all I need..._ _Runnin' wild, wild and free..._ _It's never gonna be like it used to be..._ _HEY, HEY, HEY!_

"What's going on?" Ray opened the door, Summer behind him.

"See Trent out there anywhere?" Sonny asked desperately. "What the hell is wrong with him?"

And Clay sang, _HEY, HEY, HEY!_  
And Sonny wailed, "TRENT!"

 _...No, I won't turn around, I won't turn back..._ _I've made up my mind and that's a fact..._ _It's over baby, I'm hangin' up this phone..._ _But before you go, there's just one thing you should know..._

"He's singing farewell to Stella." Brock supplied with a huge grin.

 _...You drown in your river, drown in your river of tears_... _you can cry all you like but it won't change my mind...I gotta get away, get you outta my life...Runnin' wild...wild and free...It's never gonna be like it used to be..._

 _** Runnin' Wild - Joel O'Keefe – Airbourne **_

Trent stood out in the cold, stomped his feet, drank from the bottle of bourbon, no glass required. It was going to a be a long night, and he was going to stand outside and drink until the cold drove him inside. He didn't blame any of this on Clay, he didn't. He had willingly taken this on over a year ago. He would face it, accept it, deal with it, but that didn't mean he didn't have moments of, what-the-fuck-did-you-get-yourself-into.

He kicked his heels one at a time against the cabin wall, feet numb. The snow was falling fast and hard, was over his ankles. The wind was whipping, howling. It'd be a great night to bundle up in a warm, cozy bed, and be lulled to sleep by the smell of burning wood and the sound of a crackling fire.

Yeah, like he'd see his bunk or get much sleep this night.

He blamed: Jason, for being an ass; Ray, for being indifferent; Sonny for being difficult; Himself for trusting Summer when he damn well knew better; Summer for not taking them seriously.

Mostly, he blamed Summer. Clay never should have left the cabin. Summer never should have left the kid alone at the trucks or in the infirmary. Course, Trent had been there when Summer asked about the ammo trucks, had heard Jason's response, could see how Summer interpreted it. And he'd been the one to leave Clay alone with Summer.

He snorted, chugged, spit most into the snow. Nope, he wasn't going to let Summer slide on this one. He tucked the bottle under his arm, opened the door, heard Ray saying;

"You sure he should be here? Not in the infirmary?"

"He ran from there." Trent's tone said that mere statement should explain his entire reasoning. It didn't. He shut the door, set the bottle down, shook off his gloves, removed his hat.

"Then….." Ray paused. Then what? Restraints? Guards? Trent sleeping in a chair next to the bed? Clay was here because here is where Trent wanted him and what Trent wanted, Jason gave him. "Just..." Just what? Expect Doc to babysit all night while six Seals slept soundly with no disruptions? Didn't work that way.

Well, five Seals. Not even Ray was ready to leave Clay in Summer's care.

"He likes the fire." Trent explained. "Hoping he'll want to stay with it." He shed his coat, hung it to dry. "Won't run away from it."

"He's never run from the infirmary before." Ray pointed out.

"He's never been high on chloral hydrate before." He retorted on his way to the other room to change.

"Yeah, see, that statement is wrong is so many ways. It's a sedative, it should put him to SLEEP!" Ray called after him.

Clay popped up over the back of the sofa, elbows on the back, waved at Ray. "Didn't run away." He perked up. " _Gonna run away, gonna run away. I want to ruuunn-aaah-way."_

"He starts singing Linkin Park, I'm stuffing a sock in his mouth." Sonny vowed. "Chester Bennington, he ain't."

"Who's that?" Clay pointed at Summer. "I don't know him. Sonny, make him go away." He pouted with a scowl.

"That's Summer." Ray explained. "You know him."

"It's winter." Clay corrected him. "Duh."

"It's his name." Brock said patiently.

"Oh." Clay was quiet. "Sonny doesn't like him."

"That's right." Trent nodded, coming back into the room. "Clay, did you take some pills?"

"Uh-huh." His happy nod turned into a startled double-take when Trent smacked his knuckles. "Haaay-ayyy. OW!"

"Why did you do that? You know you aren't supposed to take anything from someone you don't know."

Clay frowned, his pretty purple and green kite was starting to fall out of the sky, wasn't as fluid and smooth anymore. Dark clouds were gathering, pushing his floating creation closer to the ground, made it jerk and bob violently...the joy of watching it weave and beckon was waning.

"He didn't say no." Clay said simply, pointed at Summer, then frowned, forehead furrowed. "Ow."

Six angry, accusing glares swung Summer's way. He held his hands out, said nothing, there was no vocal defense of his actions he could give that anyone would believe. He wasn't seeing what the dig deal was, Clay was acting drunk, whoopee...yeah, big whoop indeed.

"You ready for a nap?" Trent turned his attention back to Clay, sent one last glare at Summer. He didn't want the man in the cabin but understood why Ray had returned with him. .

"Nah," Clay gave Trent a broad, sunny grin. "Not tired."

Trent groaned, he sure as hell was. "Your eye hurts, doesn't it?"

Clay nodded, touched his finger-tips on his bandaged hand to his swollen, black eye. "Ow." He became distracted by the bandage, flapped his hand, flapped furiously when it didn't fall off, tried again by flapping in the other direction. Tried to use his teeth to tug on the ace wrap but Eric caught his wrist.

"NO!" Eric said sternly.

Clay looked abashed, lowered his head, grinned diabolically.

Oh boy, Trent thought, best head off whatever mischief he's thinking about.

"If you lie down, close your eyes, erhm, eye, it'll feel all better." Trent coaxed, bottle of booze hanging from a lose two-finger hold. "You can trust me." He gulped a healthy swallow. "You'll see."

"No." Pouted Clay. "Can't see." He hiccupped. "Boo-boo."

Trent rubbed his forehead. Right, bad choice of words and wrong context. "You'll be able to see when you wake up." He wasn't above bribery. "Want some of this?" He waggled the bottle until it sloshed.

"Need to pee." Clay said instead.

Trent stifled his sigh, pasted a grin on his face, nodded. He'd just gotten changed and dry, was beginning to feel warm.

"I've got him." Jason said quietly. They were all tired, but Trent had been dealing with Clay since they'd found him and the kid could wear you out. "Come on, let's go write your name in the snow."

"Snow's cold." Clay announced. "I hafta write? Am I in trouble?"

"Let him pee in a pail." Summer suggested, was skewered with six hostile glares and one confused one. "Just saying."

"Don't want no peas!" Clay was horrified. "Don't like peas."

"Maybe the cold will wear him out." Eric said in his commanders voice.

Summer said no more.

Sonny and Brock wrestled Clay into a coat over his blanket, pulled the hood up, secured a scarf around his neck, opened the door.

"ACK!" Clay protested. "TOO COLD!"

Sonny rolled his eyes.

Clay was chatting away as Jason held tight to his scarf and dragged him out the door, the cold forgotten.

"Why was the Jolly Green Giant kicked out of the valley?" He asked Jason. "He took a pee!" He giggled. "Get it...YOW!"

Brock closed the door. "You want some coffee?" He asked Trent.

Trent looked at the bottle of bourbon. "Sure."

"You sure he's okay?" Ray asked. "He's outside in a blanket."

"Found him walking down the main road in it." Eric got up to search for mugs. The cabin didn't have a kitchen, but had a microwave, small fridge, coffee pot. "He wasn't outside long at all. Won't be now."

"...what kind of bees give milk?" Clay was dancing at the end of his scarf when Jason led him into the cabin, shut the door behind them. "...boo-bees, boobies." He shed the coat, twirled, spread the blanket like a cape. "Two peanuts walk into a bar...one was a-salted."

"Christ." Jason went over to the small sink in the 'kitchenette' to wash his hands. "Clay, enough!"

"The hell?"

"Hey, better than him singing."

"What day of the week do chickens hate?" Clay continued. "Fry-day!"

"God, isn't it time he went to sleep?"

"This gonna go on all night?"

"Why did the baby strawberry look worried?" Clay stepped over the dog, stooped to run his belly, fell over. "His parents were 'in a jam'!" He crawled to the hearth, gained his feet. "Who put a dog there?"

Brock made a grab for Clay, he escape, nimbly hopped over what served as a coffee table. Sonny snagged the blanket, Clay just let it go, laughed, struck a Superman pose.

"I'm able to leap tall buildings in a single..." He looked down. "I had a cape...where's my...Why do the French eat snails? They don't like 'fast food'."

Eric, armed with pants and a hoodie, stalked Clay one way. When he turned and tried to retrace his steps, Trent was there to block his attempt. It didn't take long to herd him to the sofa and make him sit down.

"Leaving him out here?" Eric asked.

Trent nodded. "Easier to watch and he likes the fire."

"Hand's up." Jason took the hoodie. "Over your head."

As Jason worked Clay's hands into the sleeves, Clay toed his boots off, put his foot through one leg of a pair of pajama pants, then the other, stood up to pull them up to his waist when his head popped out and his hands were released.

The simple act of getting dressed appeared to have tired him out. He sank onto the sofa, forehead furrowed, wrinkles around his mouth and his visible eye.

"Feel like that nap, now?"

Clay nodded, sank down, snuggled up to a blanket, nuzzled the pillow into submission, let his eye drift close, finally stopped trying to blink it open. There was no pretty purple and green kite, only a dark black, rolling wave that heaved and bucked and crashed against his temple in a violent attempt to escape the confines of his skull through his eyes, ears, nose.

He sniffed, lip curling into a grimace of pain, shifted uneasily until a warm blanket was tucked around him, and his feet were lifted and settled on someone's lap, a firm hand resting on his ankle. He settled down, but didn't relax, tense and rigid, mouth drawn tight as he bit and nibbled on his lower lip.

"Oh boy." Eric sat in an armchair next to the sofa, poured a shot, downed it, chased it with a swig of Pepto.

"He's crashing." Jason said to Eric, who nodded. "The fuck."

"He's taken Tramadol before."

"Not on top of a fucking sedative no one uses anymore."

"Least he's not doubled up on the floor, puking for hours." Sonny sat on the coffee table.

"Yet." Eric offered Sonny a shot, he took it.

"Sssh." Trent sloshed the bottle, took a swig, brandished it over his head, thumb on the neck to avoid leaks. "Anyone wakes him up, I'll break this with their head."

Summer and Ray started a game of chess. Trent sprawled in a bean-bag, snored softly. Eric sat in the chair, paperwork on his lap. Brock sat on the floor brushing the dog, Sonny next to him, cleaning guns, sharing rum laced coffee.

Summer stared at Clay, eyed Jason who was slumped in the corner of the sofa, feet on the coffee table. Finally accepted this was no joke, not a prank. Clay's reaction to chloral hydrate was not faked.

"T'ent?" Clay said thickly, stirred slightly before he eased onto his back, didn't move his head, kicked Jason's hip.

"Yeah buddy?" Trent shifted, didn't open his eyes. Summer had thought he was asleep.

Clay swallowed hard, wiped his sweaty forehead and cheek with his bandaged hand. "I...don't...feel...so...good."

Summer never saw six men move from six different positions and arrive at the same location at the same time so fast. Trent was out of the bean bag and on his feet before Ray even pushed to his feet from a chair. All six held something to catch vomit in...trash can, bowl, pail, helmet, bag...something.

Summer was impressed, he'd tried getting out of that bean bag, he'd had to roll and flop, push up on his hands and knees, roll some more but there was Trent, pushing Clay onto his side while Brock held a pail from his position on the floor.

"You want him to sit up?"

"Here we go."

"And it begins."

"Knew it was too good to be true."

Summer had never in his life, heard or watched anyone get and be sick, vomit, so quietly and without moving. It was like Clay was scared to make any noise. And he probably was, the knot behind his left ear was swollen bigger than his ear! His head had to be killing him. And after the recent clash of pain meds met ancient sedative, he wouldn't be taking any more pain meds for a while.

He felt bad, Clay wasn't faking his misery. He acted like his head was too heavy to move. Was a sweaty, wet, shaking floppy mess curled up on the sofa and if Summer ever doubted Bravo relied on Trent to make everything all better, those doubts were kicked aside this night.

Lights were dimmed, electronics were muted. Shimmering images and blinking fire light from candles, lanterns and the fireplace were shielded. Volume of any noise was lowered. What could be done to eliminate any discomfort, was done. And still, Clay lay, panting, trembling, unwilling to move on the sofa, blankets tangled around his legs.

The dog sat at Jason's feet, who was contorted half sideways to support Clay's head, nose against Clay's foot, brown eyes soft in sympathy. Jason spared a hand to give him a pat on the head.

"Just water." Clay was told by someone. "Sip, that's it."

When Clay was hot, he twisted and turned until he'd shed the blankets. When he was cold, he shivered with goosebumps and quivering lips until someone tossed the blankets back over him. He tolerated his forehead being felt, a hand to his cheeks, a thermometer in his ear, after some resistance, he finally accepted and swallowed two pills with water. Threw them, then the water, up.

"He running a fever?"

"Slight one."

"What is that?" Eric asked.

"Coke syrup." Trent replied. Sonny had gone outside to hammer ice into tiny chips. Trent balanced some on a spoon, poured the coke syrup over it. Clay did like flavored ice, they just didn't happen to have any cherry 7up.

"Christ, they still make that?"

"Shit Eric, I'll try anything."

Eric? Not Commander? Not Blackburn? Wow. Summer moved a rook.

"His fever goes up, he's gonna be more miserable."

"But you can't give him anything, he's not keeping anything down." Eric slid a palm under Clay's head who was on his belly, lifted his cheek from the cushion. "Ssh, easy, just a bit, don't have to move."

One eye swollen shut, the other closed, Clay was offered a spoon, told to open his mouth. He obeyed, accepted it, swallowed. It was cold and sweet, flat yet not and he wanted more. He licked his lips, tongue out in search of the spoon. Trent offered him another, then a third. Tried plain ice, which Clay took with a scowl.

"Yeah, I know." Trent grinned. "Now, please, go to sleep."

He didn't. No one did.

Trent tried ice on his eye, his lip, his head. Tried different positions, different variations of cold compresses; Clay on his back, head resting on cloth-wrapped snow. Clay on his side, cold, wet cloth on the bump on his head. Clay on his belly, chunks of ice Sonny and Brock went outside to knock off the eaves, wrapped in a thick towel, held to the bump on his head by Trent, then Brock, finally Sonny.

But nothing alleviated or even eased Clay's pain or headache. He didn't keep acetaminophen down and it was all Trent was willing to try giving him.

"Can try liquid Tylenol." Jason mumbled sleepily. Nudged and kicked repeatedly, he'd tried getting up, had remained with the kids feet in his lap when Clay had grown even more restless.

"Don't have any."

No one said anything as the wind chose that moment to rattle the windows, reminding them all that no one wanted to go out in the weather to retrieve liquid Tylenol from the infirmary. Jason considered his options. Trent would go, he knew that, but he would order Summer to do it. The punk was remorseful, but sullen and cocky.

"Hook up." Brock was saying as Sonny zipped his coat, donned a knit hat, raised the hood, pulled the strings tight. He took the scarf from Brock, wrapped it around his neck, raised his arms for Brock to secure the belt that would keep him attached to the guide ropes from building to building.

"See doc." Trent said and Sonny was gone.

Power went out. With the fire being their only source of heat, they tended the flames, added logs, stoked the flames as quietly and as carefully as humanely possible.


	5. Chapter 5

"Where's he going?" Summer asked. He knew the answer, just wanted it confirmed.

"Why else would he find the doc?" Brock replied waspishly. He was tired, he was anxious, he didn't want Summer in the cabin. "To get medicine."

"He went out in this weather to get liquid Tylenol?" Summer said incredulously. "You can't be serious?"

"Thought you talked to him." Eric sighed to Ray.

And Ray sighed his reply. "Thought I did."

"Is there that _big_ a difference?" Summer continued. "Between liquid and tablets? I can't see it."

"Do you not see him?" Brock waved an arm in Clay's direction, Cerberus instantly at his side, "If liquid Tylenol will help him, then yeah, we'll go out in this weather to get it."

"Don't have kids, do you?" Ray commented dryly.

Summer just looked at him. "If he needs specific medication for whatever is the matter with him, shouldn't you always have it with you?"

"Not another Nate." Eric muttered. Nate who thought anything medical should be Trent's problem and responsibility. He waited for Jason to shut down the soon to be argument but Jason tucked the blanket over Clay's feet, rubbed his calf.

How many times had he done this with his son? Not as many as he'd like, he wasn't home all that much, but when he was, this was one of his favorite positions to sit with Mikey. Jason inhaled deeply, blew his breath out.

"Yeah, with Clay, there's a difference, now shut it down Kairos." Ray ordered.

Summer didn't listen. "I just don't get going out for..."

"Because," Eric pushed to his feet. He rarely, if ever, interfered with Jason or Jason's orders with his men, but tonight, of all nights, he was out of sorts. "The kid is miserable and nothing we have here is making him feel better or making any of this easier for him. I rarely place blame, but this is your fault. We all share our part in this situation but you were given orders to stay with him and you didn't. That...this...his condition...him...is on _you_."

Summer was silent, not used to being dressed down by someone with Eric's rank. He felt bad, he didn't like seeing Spenser in as much pain and discomfort as he was, but no, he didn't see it as his fault.

"Sonny had to act up..." He began, was cut off by Eric.

"Yeah, Quinn was an ass. Trent went to see him, doc stepped out...YOU left the infirmary, not gonna win this one."

"Not trying to win anything." Summer said exasperated. "I just...don't get the big deal you're all making of this. Everyone gets sick, we've all been hurt..."

"The big deal, asshole, is he left the safety and security of the base because no one he knew was with him." Brock snapped angrily, his tone raising the ire of Cerberus. "He was muddle-headed and you knew it."

Summer had no answer for that. It was the truth. Trent had told him - instructed him - ordered him not to leave Clay alone or let him out of his sight. He had because he hadn't believed Trent...no way to back out of that fuck-up gracefully. He wanted to argue the doc had also left, but the doc had left Clay with Summer, a man Trent had also left Clay with...

"Sonny's pissed Trent had to go talk him into the MRI, leaving Clay alone with you." Jason said, head back, eyes closed. "Trent feels like shit for trusting you. I feel like an ass because I asked him too. Sonny went to get Clay medication because Trent doesn't want his fever to go up. Now sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up and back the fuck off."

"Can't you control that dog?" He scowled, eying Cerberus nervously when he bared his teeth, growled.

"Yeah, guys, hey." Trent had lowered the lanterns, blown out the candles because flickering light bothered Clay. "Sonny's on pain meds, muscle relaxant, keep him to beer."

"For what?" Popped out of Summer's mouth before he could stop it.

"For jumping out of a tree, landing on a moving snowmobile some 10 feet below." Brock snapped, he picked up his coat, put it on. "Dumbass." He muttered, zipping up.

"Wondered why he waved off a second shot." Eric said.

Clay was uneasy, shifting his weight from hip to hip, wiped his face with the blanket, chewed on his split lip, moaned when it stung and he tasted blood.

"Where are you going?" Ray asked.

"I need some air."

"Don't leave the porch." Jason didn't move. "Three minutes Brock."

The dog went with him and as he opened the door, Clay shrank into the depths of the sofa with a murmured protest over the blast of cold air. He tried to sit up, didn't make it, doubled up with a groan, weight on his shoulder.

"You really think liquid Tylenol is going to touch the pain he's in?" Summer asked. Tried to keep the sarcasm from his tone, thought he succeeded. Didn't.

"It's not for the pain." Eric said when no one else bothered to answer. Even Ray was silent. "He's going to have to ride out the headache with tears and whoever is closest for him to hold onto. The Tylenol is for his fever."

Clay swallowed hard, fever? Maybe that's why he felt like, well, like this - you know, shit. He wanted to sit up, but trying to do so made his head double its efforts to break for freedom. It was a fight he was too tired to fight.

He liked his lips, tasted salt. Huh, he was sweating. Right. Fever. It hurt to think straight, and when he tried, his head exploded, so he stopped trying, made a bargain. If his head would just stop its attempts to kill him, he'd let it remain in its rightful position…..whatever sense that made.

He wanted to hold his head, his stomach, settled for a palm against his forehead, an arm over his stomach.

"... should be in the infirmary...take him before storm gets worse..." Clay heard someone argue. The voice wasn't familiar…not the tone, not the timber, not the octave….nothing about that voice sounded…..right. "...why isn't..."

He shook his head. Maybe he did. Thought he did. Maybe he didn't. No, he hadn't. It would have fallen right off if he had, it was so top-heavy. Huh, nope, he didn't think he'd moved at all.

Trent sat down on the coffee table, reached for Clay. "Because he's drugged; Because we have no way of knowing how he's going to respond; Because doc can't give him any medication that I can't; Because we don't dare give him anything because we don't know what kind of reaction he'll throw; Because he won't be content with people he doesn't know;  
Because I'm sure as hell not chasing his ass down in a fucking blizzard."

Summer wanted to say, but didn't: Okay, yeah, sure, but you could give him medication, and he if does throw a reaction, what better place to be than the infirmary! AUGH!

"Trent." Ray warned.

"I'm sick of saying it Ray."

"Yeah, okay, look, we're all tired. Been a long day. Jason, time for bed, isn't it?" Ray prompted.

"Go." Trent said. "I'll wait for Sonny."

"We'll take turns watching him." Jason said.

"Not him." Trent muttered, pushing Clay over onto his back, guiding his head to a pillow so he didn't bump it on the arm of the sofa. "You dizzy?"

"No." Jason agreed. "Not him." He adjusted the blanket when Clay kicked his feet out.

Man, how the hell was he going to work this fuck-up out? Brock was pissed, Trent was hot, Sonny was livid and Ray's patience was wearing thin. Summer was an ass.

"No missy." Clay slurred. "Ty ine...nerts." He rolled his head on the pillow, his not-quite-focused one-eyed gaze searching for the one face he knew would offer him relief. "...an...ned. Gawd...snot."

They were all fluent in drugged, doped, drunk Clay-speak, Trent probably the best at it.

"Your eye hurts, I know." Trent said patiently, kid wasn't dizzy. "Sonny went to get you something so you won't feel so hot."

"...an...ned?"

"Yeah, it'll help your head."

"Kid can't catch a break, bashing him in the head wasn't enough." Eric told Ray and Jason. "They had to drug him."

"He probably fought back." Ray said.

"No one else, you know? Chloral Hydrate, really? No one uses that anymore." Eric pushed to his feet to tend the fire. "Trent, I get you anything?"

Trent handed him a dry towel, asked for snow, small chunks of ice. "You wanna get up?" Trent asked Jason.

Jason eased out from under Clay's feet, stood up, stretched his back. Trent settled Clay on the sofa with pillows, warm blankets and a towel of ice and snow against the lump behind his ear.

"Nime….urt-see." Clay smacked his lips, pulled a pout when his split lip pulled and he tasted blood.

"We got beer, water," Jason stared into the mini-fridge. "Coffee."

Trent scowled. "No caffeine."

The door opened and Sonny barreled through. "Shit, it's a fucking blizzard out there." Brock and Cerberus came in with him. He went to the fire to warm his hands after handing Trent a duffel bag from the doc. "Far as Ellis can tell, the attempt to take Spenser was to offer him in exchange for a prisoner here on base."

Ray shook his head. "His luck sometimes."

"Anyone need to hit the jon, do it now." Brock set a bag of snacks Sonny had brought with him on the table, Trent started unpacking it. "Not supposed to slack off until dawn."

"What are you looking for? Tylenol's in the bag from the doc." Sonny said.

"He's thirsty. Davis sent this, there's juice in it for him." Trent said.

"Juice?" Summer said skeptically.

"Yeah, juice. Cranberry, grape, apple. Juice." Trent retorted sarcastically.

"Why would…?" Again, six hostile glares silenced Summer's tongue. "How do you know it's from Davis?"

No one answered him.

Trent resumed his seat on the coffee table with the liquid Tylenol and a glass of cranberry juice Jason had poured and handed him. Clay came up on his elbow to willingly drink the juice, but it took some coaxing, a bit of force, some prodding and Trent holding the bottle to his mouth, before Clay finally parted his lips and tipped his head back and swallowed the mouthful of medicine. More so to relieve the pressure against his split lip then to appease Trent.

"Good?" Trent waited while Clay shuddered over the taste, coughed. "Gonna stay down?"

Clay nodded, slowly went flat, turned to face the back of the sofa. Someone tossed a blanket over him.

"I'll sit up." Trent sent first Jason a look, then Brock.

"Cerb?" Brock called the dogs' attention. "Hey boy." He wagged one of Cerb's toys.

"WOOF!"

"Clay," Brock pointed to sofa, Cerberus thumped his tail against the floor. "No outside. Clay stay."

The dog looked from the sofa to the door to Brock. "WOOF!"

"Good boy." Brock gave him the toy, patted him on the head.

Summer expected the dog to lie down in front of the door, but he retreated to his bed in front of the fire and settled down, both Clay and the door in his line of sight.

"Turn in." Jason ordered. It was after midnight.

"Wait, you're going to let the dog watch him?" Summer asked incredulously. "Like, for real?"

"He's settled down." Eric said, he'd take Clay's bunk. "We'll hear him, anything happens."

"You'll be here." Jason said. "You get to stay up all night, keep the fire going."

"Then shouldn't the dog lie down in front of the door? You know, so Spenser can't make another break for it?"

"You're gonna be on Clay watch." Sonny spat. "Why don't you lie down in front of the fucking freezing door?"

"ENOUGH!" Eric barked. "Bed. Now." His tone brooked no argument. "Jason, you too."

Bravo went.

Despite his grumbling, Sonny agreed to let Trent give him a check-over. Trent followed him to their room.

Summer, alone in the room with Clay and under orders to stay awake, watch him, and keep the fire going, passed behind the sofa, paused to lean over it, looked down at Clay, assumed he was asleep.

A yelp, a shriek, a thud, screams of pain and six men in various stages of undress hit the room...Jason and Brock held guns, Trent followed Sonny, Ray and Eric stalked the room, looking for the threat...Clay was a bug-eyed, panting, shrieking, thrashing bundle of blankets on the floor, wedged between the coffee table and sofa, limbs akimbo.

"THE HELL?" roared Sonny. "YOU ASSHOLE!"

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?" roared Brock.

"BACK OFF!" ordered Trent. He abandoned Sonny as Brock and Jason picked up the coffee table and moved it so Ray and Eric could pick up Clay. Trent tugged the blankets until they pulled free. Clay, no longer hampered by the confinement of tight blankets and surrounded by people he knew and trusted, stopped fighting for his freedom and went limp. Eric, taken off-guard by Clay's dead weight, staggered and ended up on the sofa, Clay sprawled mostly on top of him when Ray dropped the kid's feet onto the cushions.

"Tell me he's ok." Jason ordered.

No blood, that was good. Trent squeezed Clay's bad hand, he muttered an 'ow' but squeezed back. Clay didn't protest while Trent felt him up and down, gently threaded his fingers through the mop of blonde hair, no new lumps or bumps.

"Fell on his ass." Trent finally announced.

"You stay away from him." Sonny was stalking Summer. "What did you do to him?"

"NOTHING!" Summer protested. "I walked behind the sofa!"

"And you stopped, leaned over," Jason guessed. "Don't get close to him Kairos. He doesn't know you, not in the state he's in."

"You're asking for trouble." Ray shook his head. "Don't go near him, got it? Sit over there."

"You wanna leave?" Sonny pointed to the door. "You can make it."

"See to Sonny." Eric told Trent. "I've got...um, he's, uh, got me. I'll take first watch."

Clay had settled down quickly, Trent wasn't surprised, pain had probably helped Clay into slumber and despite his ungainly sprawl on the sofa - half in Eric's lap, leg on the floor, Eric's shirt fisted in one hand, they weren't going to make him move.

Brock settled the dog, tossed the blankets over Clay. Jason handed Eric the towel of ice and snow. Trent herded Sonny to their room and Ray had a quiet word with Summer. Then everyone returned to bed.

The storm raged but the fire kept the cabin warm. No lanterns or candles were lit, Clay didn't like the flickering light, so Summer wasn't able to read. He sat at the table and strained his eye sight playing solitaire with a deck of cards by firelight.

"I'm gonna step out." Summer told Eric, who mumbled sleepily, waved him on.

Summer put on his boots, his coat, stepped outside, went no further than the edge of the porch. Was done and back inside within a minute, the wind too brutal to linger outside. He opened the door, stomped his feet, closed the door, stopped dead.

A Glock 19 was aimed directly between his eyes. And despite running a fever, sweating, an eye swollen closed, fighting a headache that had kept him flat on his back for several hours, Clay sat on the sofa, oozing hostility. His aim didn't waiver, his hand didn't shake.

"Blackburn." Summer hissed, afraid to move. Did Clay recognize him? "Blackburn?" Dear God. "BLACKBURN!" He locked eyes with Clay. "Clay? Hey man, it's me. Summer? Remember me? Not winter. Right? You know me, Sonny doesn't like me. COMMANDER!"

Cerberus raised his head, he'd let this man leave the cabin because he hadn't been told not to. He yawned, licked his chops, stopped mid yawn. If he had eyebrows, they would have met in disbelief before popping right off his head.

 _Yelp! This is not right. We are not working. We are on down time. I am in my bed with my favorite toy. There should be no guns._

Cerberus got to his feet, dog-stretched by lowering his head to the floor, ass in the air, then padded over to Eric and nudged him until the man raised a hand to scratch his ears.

 _Wake up human. We have a_ _problem_.

Eric sighed, opened one eye when Cerberus kept licking his hand. He yawned, patted the furry head.

"What's up boy? You gotta go out? Huh? Make it quick..." He realized his lap was empty, no heavy weight on his cramped thigh. "Whoa, hey there pip-squeak." He was off the sofa and between Clay and Summer. "What'cha doing Clay?" He asked quietly.

"Trying to kill me." Summer answered and Sonny was behind the sofa, came from nowhere.

"Oh, come on." Sonny rolled his eyes, waved a hand over his head dismissively. "Knowing how he is when he's medicated," he leaned over Clay, plucked the gun from his one-hand firm hold. "You really think we're gonna leave loaded guns just lying around in his reach?" He didn't bother to check the gun, tossed it aside. It landed on a chair and within seconds, it had been picked it up and was out of sight.

Summer just stared Sonny down. He walked behind the sofa and Clay had fucking freaked out. Sonny walked behind the sofa and Clay was all docile and compliant.

Clay, now that Sonny and Eric were in control, slowly listed sideways until his head hit the pillow, burrowed into the warmth left from Eric. Sonny came around the sofa, squatted down, rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Clay? You ok?"

Summer fumed. _Was Spenser okay_? The hell was that shit?

Cerberus had retrieved Brock and now, everyone was in the room.

"What's going on?" Ray asked sleepily, not yet completely awake.

"Your _kid_ just held a loaded gun on me, round in the chamber, finger on the trigger."

"Do you have to be such a delicate flower?" Sonny asked sarcastically.

"Then you won't have a problem letting me see that gun." Summer countered.

"None at all." Sonny shrugged with a smirk.

Summer's gaze flicked to the chair where Sonny had just thrown the gun – it wasn't there. His eyes widened. Jesus Christ!

"Kairos." Ray spoke up, wide awake now. "We told you…"

"You never told me he would try to _kill_ me if he didn't recognize me!"

"Don't be such a drama queen." Trent blew him off, rousing Clay who was reluctant to respond. "No one tried to kill you." He made Clay sit up, winced at the choked groan of pain lifting his head from the pillow caused.

" _He held a gun on me!_ " To his dismay, he was shaking. Sure, 'the kid' whined and cried when he had an audience. Hadn't winced or moaned when he'd sat upright with a gun in his hand, Eric asleep and no one else around.

"We told you to let him get used to you." Brock accused. "But you've done nothing to try and make that happen."

"He wasn't like this in Mumbai." Summer objected.

"He was shot."

"We lost Adam."

"Jason wasn't with us."

None of that made any fucking sense. Clay had been in both physical and emotional pain and...nothing like this had happened.

Summer was at a loss. He'd been excited, honored to roll with Bravo, the best Seal Team the Navy had. No one joined their team and now he knew why. They were bat-shit crazy. All of them. Blackburn, Davis, Ellis included.

This was the first mission he'd been on with Bravo that they were a complete unit. The first one or two had been without Ray. The last one had been without Jason. Now, he wasn't so sure he wanted anything to do with any of them.

He damn well knew Clay had held a loaded gun on him, cocked and ready – one in the chamber, finger on the trigger. That Sonny had oh-so nonchalantly palmed a loaded gun, like it couldn't have shot him in the face, made his knees weak. And no, it didn't matter Sonny had taken the gun from Clay from behind.

"So, that's how you're going to play it?" Summer looked from Sonny to Trent to Brock to Ray. Everyone met his gaze, stared him down. Yeah, that's the way it was gonna be. "Blackburn?"

Blank stares.

Jason, sprawled in his bunk in the other room, was awakened when Cerberus jumped onto the bed, lay across his legs and dropped a gun onto his stomach.

"Woof."

Jason yawned, picked the gun up, disarmed it, set the safety, scratched two silky ears. "Hey boy."

He should get up. The dog didn't often bring him loaded guns. Something was going on somewhere. He didn't move, Ray could handle it, whatever it was. He heard raised voices from the other room. Maybe not.

"Who went and did what, huh boy?" He gave the dog a final pat. "Should I go see?"

"WOOF!"

"Take that as a yes." He sat up, swung his feet to the floor.

Cerberus curled up in the warm spot vacated by Jason, head on the pillow. His eyes closed with a doggy sigh of complete exhaustion. Looking after this pack was hard work.

Jason stepped from his room, went no further. Great. The guys were all over Summer – again. Damn. Give it time, Eric said. They'll work it out, Davis said. Just fun and games, Ellis said.

They were all full of shit.

Jason whistled, the room fell silent. "What now?"

Jason understood why Brock couldn't warm up to Summer. Jason didn't like the way Summer treated Cerberus either. Man, that made Jason burn. Cerb was not _just a dog_. One day soon, _that_ dog was doing to be allowed to show Summer just what kind of dog he was. Maybe stitches from a dog bite and denied pain meds would change his tune.

He could even understand Trent's hostility. Summer's comments about Trent's bedside manner and habit of favoring Clay, were true, but out of line. Deserved a punch to the face, and Jason would turn the other way when Trent ultimately delivered another fist that would undoubtedly, this time, knock a tooth or two loose.

He knew Ray was getting tired of playing the peacemaker, hated Ray being put in that position. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, and it shouldn't be necessary.

And Sonny? Pffft!

Summer very much was not a team player. He was used to working on his own with inanimate objects that didn't talk back. If Jason couldn't get him past that, he would have to go.

"Ray?" Jason waited. Everyone wanted to speak at once, but by their boss singling out by name, they all kept their tongue.

Ray hesitated. The truth was known by all. Clay was slumped into the depths of the sofa, holding a towel of ice to his head staring hatred and vehemence at Summer. His gaze was still unfocused and he kept his head tilted to the side…so yeah, he still wasn't right. But that didn't mean he could go around aiming loaded guns at teammates.

"Uh, just an argument." Ray said finally. "Maybe Clay should go to bed."

"Easier to watch him out here." Trent argued.

"Didn't do a very good job of that, did you?" Ray snapped, making Jason's eyebrows rise.

And Trent uncharacteristically snapped right back. "WE DID!" He pointed at Summer. "He entered without knocking. You don't do that when the kid is…..you don't do that."

"I stepped out for a minute. I have the right to come back in." Summer said defensively. "Spenser should be in the infirmary." He looked at Blackburn. "Rules, remember them? Regulations? He doesn't belong here."

Clay Spenser would be fine if he were left alone...it was Bravo who wouldn't be fine, their kid was alone, without them.

" _You_ don't belong here." Sonny sneered.

"You chose to bunk with support, these aren't your quarters." Brock added.

"Where's the dog?" Summer asked suddenly, finally figuring out where the gun had gone. "Doesn't it ever go in a crate?"

"It's called a kennel, not a crate." Brock corrected. "And _he_ is not confined to a kennel. Don't like it, get out."

"It's a military dog," Summer began. "You're just its handler."

"ALRIGHT!" Jason raised his voice, something he rarely did in their quarters. "Enough!"

Three of his men fell sullen and silent. Ray looked weary and worn out. Clay looked….well, like he had no idea what was going on and mostly likely didn't. Jason's gaze rested on his youngest…the kid looked like crap. He was having a rough night, not sleeping well, wouldn't settle down, running a fever, something he didn't usually do, his head was hurting….and now Summer had come back in from outside, unannounced and Clay hadn't recognized him - had apparently held a loaded gun on him. Huh.

Jason looked at Eric, who nodded. He had his commander's support. "Cerberus is part of this team. He's not _just_ a military dog, he's our dog. Brock owns and trained Cerberus, the dog is his. Cerb doesn't go to the kennel on base, or go with another team, he goes home with Brock, got it?"

"He's not an 'it'." Brock couldn't help adding.

Summer nodded.

"Now what the fuck..." Jason rubbed his forehead, yawned. "...did you think we meant when we told you to stay away from Clay? Don't get close to him. What part of 'don't go near him' didn't you get? Let him get used to you? Any of this ringing any bells with you?"

"I assumed you were all over-reacting like you always do." Summer stated, still shaken, now angry. "No one ever said he'd try to kill me, he didn't recognize me."

"Jesus Fucking Christ!" Sonny snapped. "No one tried to kill you!"

"Yet," both Trent and Brock muttered.

Jason raised a hand, palm out, to silence his men. "The hell's the matter with you?" He asked Summer.

Summer thought of his recent introduction to Clay's steady hand and unfocused gaze. It would be his word against – everyone else, should he decide to report the incident. An investigation would be opened, they would all be questioned. Sonny, Brock and Trent would claim they saw nothing. What Ray would do, was questionable. The gun was suspiciously missing, though everyone knew where it had gone.

Blackburn looked pissed, no help would come from the team commander.

Summer wouldn't dare demand he be allowed to search Jason's room. He'd ruin whatever career in the Navy he might have, he was thrown out of Bravo. Rumors would follow him.

He was slowly, finally, beginning to get it. They were nuts. All of them. Even the damn dog. But nuts or not, they were a team, and they circled one another, no matter the reason. His choices were: stay on the team and work to gain their trust or transfer out without causing a fuss over this incident.

"You...you...all of you, coddle him." Summer blurted out. "He'd be fine, you all didn't...act this way...like...like this. He didn't moan and whine when he held a gun on me, so he can fight through the pain, he wants to."

"And that's a problem, why?" Eric asked, arms crossed over this chest, his stance, his look, defiant.

Summer was stunned. He hadn't expected them to see it, acknowledge it, know it, admit it. He'd thought Ray had tried to tell him that they tolerated Clay's, uh issues, because it was how they dealt with their violent lives, not because they knew they were coddling him.

Jason waited. He was tired. His team was tired. The storm didn't help already frayed tempers. Everyone wanted to be out tracking the men who had attempted to take one of their own. Everyone wanted Clay fine and fit once again, not in pain, fighting the effects of being drugged and medicated.

No one wanted this. But they had it, and they needed to deal with it.

He hadn't been on the mission where Bravo had lost Adam but both Ray and Eric had assured him, Clay had taken being shot without an issue. Probably, Trent had said, because he hadn't been drugged or medicated or sedated. Then grief and sorrow and guilt had struck and Clay had forgotten all about taking one in the vest until they'd gotten home.

Then came Mexico. Clay hadn't been on his best game. Jason thought it had to do with Stella, the timing of that break-up would mess with anyone's head. Whatever had happened, Sonny had become super-protective of the kid and Clay allowed it.

"Where did he get a gun?" Jason asked wearily. "How?"

"Dunno." Brock said. "Usually yeah, a loaded gun can be found anywhere in our quarters, but not tonight."

Jason rubbed his jaw, felt more grey hair growing. He knew the gun, bet by the look on Sonny's face, he did too. The gun was Clay's. They'd all locked up their own weapons, but no one had thought to secure Clay's own gun. How it had gotten to the depths of the sofa was the question that would probably never be answered.

"Okay then." Eric rubbed his hands together. "Lesson learned. Next time, we make sure he has no access to anyone's weapon. Everyone, back to bed."

And just like that, the incident was dismissed.

Jason headed for the coffee pot. It wasn't yet dawn, but close enough. "Summer, two choices. Take my bunk or get out." It was best to separate him from the others. "Guys, back to bed. Trent, that means you. I've got the kid."

He made a cup coffee. Eric had a word with Ray and Ray followed Bravo to their room, Eric went with Summer and Jason had no doubt his Commander would make this whole shit-show go away.

Clay licked his lips, ran a hand through his hair, winced. Hunched a shoulder to wipe sweat from his face, hissed.

"You're running a fever." Trent told him, offered him juice, he took it but his hand shook so badly, Trent held the cup steady for him.

"Am I?"

"Yuh-huh. Take this."

Clay eyed the bottle of liquid Tylenol with a curled lip. "Shit tastes awful."

Trent shrugged, produced tablets. "Take these then."

Clay glared at him, then his palm. "Didn't keep 'em down, did I?"

"Nope." Trent was surprised Clay was clear-headed. "You're keeping juice down, you need the liquids, wanna puke it up?"

Clay sighed, took the bottle from Trent, swallowed a mouthful. "Gross."

"Get some sleep." Trent told him. "Jason's up, you need anything."

"Go to bed." Jason told Trent again. "Me and him? Gonna have a chat about who delivers my orders and what is an acceptable job for his rank on this team, then he can sleep."

Great, Clay sighed, just great.

() () ()

The storm over, the sun out, doc made his way to the cabin to check up on Clay, who thankfully, slept soundly on the sofa, Lisa with him, bearing breakfast.

"Just when you think we have him figured out, he pulls something new, eh?" Doc chuckled, having been filled in on Clay's antics.

"Which means?" Eric asked.

Doc nodded, salted his scrambled eggs. "Young Spenser has never shown violence toward anyone before, has he?"

"Uh, hell yeah." Sonny snorted.

"In his quarters? With you all with him?" He raised a hand to ward off the expected argument. "You weren't within his sight, but you were within hearing distance, he knew that."

"Oh." Silence. "Well then, no."

"Doc," Jason began.

Doc munched bacon, swallowed coffee. "I, being of not extensive psyche training whatsoever, believe that young Spenser's issue with the 'season' over there, likely stems from the discord between him and the rest of you."

"Working on it." Jason muttered.

"Keep loaded guns away from him." Doc added. "How'd he get it anyway? No matter. Trent and I will figure it out."

"I'll fight beside him, I'll protect his back, save his ass, carry him on my back, but don't ask me to sit down and have a beer with him Jay." Sonny spoke up. "Ain't gonna have dinner neither, ain't gonna be in the same room with him 'less its mission related. You got a problem with that?"

Jason was quiet. Jay? Oh boy. And yes, he did, but no, he really didn't. "No, no problem." He'd give it time, see if the situation worked itself out. Best thing to do with Sonny was give him time.

"Manageable." Doc was telling Eric. "If the kid is sick, medicated, drugged, sedated, don't argue in front of him. He's gonna pick up on that. If you yell at someone, he's going to react, think he has to protect you…hey! Not so bad at this shrink thing after all, am I? Huh? Right? What do you think? I say, is that a cinnamon roll? Oh here now Brock, you can't have them all."

() () ()

"What'cha doing?" Kenny asked, coming into the supply shed.

"What'cha need?" Lisa countered with a smile.

"You got any gloves better than these?"

She tossed him a pair of ski-gloves, went back to zipping liners in to parkas. She worked the sleeve through, snapped the cuff. "Bravo's hiking out at three."

"Why are you zipping in…" he counted. "Seven liners?" His eyes widened. "Clay's not going, is he?"

Lisa snorted. "Not done yet," which meant, Jason would be taking members of support with him. "And no, he's grounded. He's dizzy, nauseated, his head still hurts and with only one eye, his coordination is off."

"His hand is good though, right?" Lisa nodded. "No PT?" Lisa shook her head. "You think they'll find trouble?"

She finished one coat, set it aside, picked up another. "They're going after whoever tried to take Clay."

"Not going home until they get them, huh?" Kenny paused. "Gonna need a hat." He grinned, catching the fur-lined knit hat with ear flaps she tossed at him. "See ya."

Lisa grinned, finished the parkas. Clay wouldn't be cleared to fly home for several days yet, but she knew Bravo would return from their hike with their captives this very day.

***END***


End file.
